The Keeper of Time
by d'elfe
Summary: At seventeen, Frances sometimes joins the infamous Mulder and Scully in their investigations. A murder leads them to Forks, where the young woman meets a certain unsettling doctor who seems to know her, albeit she has no recollection of him. This is the first part of Frances' series.
1. Chapter 1 - Blood Sucking

**Good morning, or evening dear readers! So this is quite the beginning of Frances' stories. Not the very beginning, of course, because I would have to write on how Frances met Mulder and Scully and how she started being an intern for two years while they worked in Interpol (Lyon, France). Though, this is the story that details how she became the Keeper of Time. **

**The timeline of Frances' story can be found on my profile. Don't hesitate to go back and forth a little if you need to understand where we are on the timeline. Do not hesitate as well to read the related stories that take place, in other words, such as the Lord Of the rings (now complete), Master and Commander, Batman (not posted yet), Star Wars (not posted yet) and plenty of others in progress. I hope you enjoy this saga! Cheers.**

April 2001

The coffee machine produced the usual horrendous noise as it filled the plastic cup to the brim with the caffeinated beverage that would save her brain for the day. Humming the "old brigade" song from Roisin Duhb that she had heard in the plane, Frances tried to focus her eyes. Damn jet lag getting the better of her! Still, it was better than being stuck in France working on maths and physics with her mother. Especially since he exams would have to wait another year, she was only seventeen after all! Thank God that Interpol had extended to her the courtesy of finishing her internship with Mulder and Scully even if they operated from the States.

As they had picked her up from the airport, she had noticed the warmth in Mulder's eyes as he greeted her. The bond they shared was as strong as ever, even if now, they didn't get to see each other so much. And there was nothing like a little investigation in the states to spice up the Easter holidays. Her parents didn't even bother to protest since the air ticket was paid by Interpol, they just had to drop her off at the airport and pray that she returned to them in one piece. Hopefully, they would never know all the near-death experiences she had had while investigating with Mulder and Scully. And she could still relate a few minor adventures when possible.

"When being just, a boy like you, I joined the old brigade….

Where was the lad, who stood with me, when history was made?

Oh gra mo croidhe, I long to see, the boys of the old brigade"

Frances loved singing, and this particular lore she enjoyed very much, albeit it took her a while to understand the blasted Irish accent. Not that it was ugly, a far cry from it. But being French, it bordered on being unintelligible. Carried away by her song, and half vanquished by the late hour, Frances failed to realise the very still figure that pondered on approaching her.

A few feet away, hidden by the darkness of the corridor, stood a very stunned Carlisle Cullen. His golden eyes, fixed on the young woman, could not have widened more. And no amount of warning from Alice – you will know, she had said this morning. You cannot fail to recognise her – could have prepared him for that, for seeing her again. For this woman had walked his memories for more than three hundred and fifty years. How could it be? Stunned, he took the time to observe her. Something felt off.

Her long hair fell in waves on her back, a sea of silky strands where warm brown seemed mixed with a dozen other, lighter shades. Carlisle frowned; his memory bothered by the lack of red in her colouring. She was so shockingly similar, and yet so much younger than the lady he remembered. Her body lean, muscles efficient, her bearing as noble as the ladies of old, but her features kinder somehow. He knew, also, that she was selfless, daring and blunt. Yet so gentle, so moved by the plea of others. She was the same, and yet different. So young, only a teenager, but as grounded as his adopted children. As if, already, she had lived a thousand years.

The song that stumbled from her lips was an Irish lore from the war of independence. Her voice was low, but not enough that he couldn't pick her the words, and the lack of accent as she went through the chorus.

The machine beeped, and Frances sighed.

\- "Enfin !", she said, impatiently snatching the cup and wincing at the heat. (Finally!)

Turning around to join her colleagues in the morgue, she was startled to find a doctor in her path. No other than he could have shocked her into silence, for despite her young age, she had seen and lived more weird things than the average teenager. The man, though, was enough to stun her mind into oblivion. He was shockingly beautiful, inhumanly so, and the golden of his eyes did not help his case. Added to the fact that she had not heard him, nor seen him, Frances was suddenly very weary. His gaze, though, held much fondness, and she wondered if he knew her somehow. Something in her chest ached, as if her very life depended on him. The feeling was as unsettling as it was exhilarating. In this very moment, Frances felt like he could ask anything of her, and she would comply. But then, the doctor smiled, his features enlightened by the slight quirk of his perfect lips, and her knees buckled.

\- "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle you."

His voice was deep, and so rich that Frances felt like kneeling at his feet to beg for more attention, more words from him. Her hazel eyes couldn't detach from his fair features. He was so impossibly perfect like a statue carved in marble. So cold as well. The young lady gathered what was left of her sanity, shaking her head in an effort to get her bearings back. Something was very, very wrong. And since the strange man wouldn't relinquish his hold on her, Frances chose blunt honesty to untangle herself from his imperious gaze.

\- "So … what are you?"

A pair of very shocked golden eyes stared at her, and the doctor eventually chuckled, the most beautiful sound she had ever heard.

\- "Always so perceptive… Do you recognise me?"

\- "Should I?" she shot back.

The doctor's shoulder sagged, as if an invisible weight had settled upon them. Frances frowned, aware that her answer wasn't the right one. But if her senses still screamed at her to step back, the disappointment in his eyes was enough to make her heart bleed. Had she met the man somewhere in Washington? Interpol? And what was he, really? An alien in disguise? A supernatural creature ready to crush her?

His voice, though, was so soft, like velvet on her ears.

\- "Pardon me for my straightforwardness."

There were a few remnants of an accent in his words, and a touch of old-fashioned phrasing. His cryptic answer, though, was enough to deter her, and Frances' sense of danger kicked in. Her hazel eyes flickered to the exit, hoping that Mulder would eventually come and join her if she was missing for too long. There were no words to express her surprise when, seeing her unease, the doctor stepped out of her path.

\- "Do not let me keep you from your investigation."

Frances fiddled with the rim of her cup, her eyes narrowed at the doctor as she struggled against the urge to launch herself in his arms. Damn him for being so tempting! Her instinct screamed, trying to restrain her silly brain that wanted more closeness. He was dangerous, dangerous like a predator could be. She could feel it in her bones now that she started to recover from his enchantment. His gaze did not blink as much as it should, his body so still, on the prowl, his eyes aware of her every moment, and maybe more. Could he hear the frantic beating of her heart, the blood rushing into her veins? Smell the adrenalin that started to flood her as she prepared to strike back?

Yet, he was willing to let her go. Was it a ruse to have her turn her back on him? For he knew, as much as she did, that he was no mere human. Was he waiting for her guard to be down to kill her? His eyes, though, conveyed so much warmth that it confused her even more. The young lady sidestepped him, intend on running to the morgue the minute she was out of his sight. But then, as she walked away, she heard his voice once more.

\- "Your hair would look great in red."

Turning around in shock, Frances was stunned to find the corridor empty. Damn! How did he know that she had been considering a mahogany henna for months now? If the guy was a psychic or a mind reader, she was in a deeper pit that she initially thought! Frances couldn't wait to be away from this horrible town. Forks had a nice but debonair sherif named Charlie – that earned him brownie points at least – that had called the feds after finding a body in the woods, a body with not a drop of blood left and no apparent wounds. Perhaps she should have stayed home, and studied biology instead!

A few days followed where Mulder hunted around for some information on the Quileutes clan of La Push while Scully rambled about his obsessions with supernatural beings. All was well in the world for Frances; she was so used to their quarrels and the never-ending back and forth scientific arguments that if felt like the purring of a cat to her ears. Some kind of anchor in the crazy world they lived in.

Presently, Mulder was driving, arguing about the book he had found on the Quileutes legends and very intend on digging into them for an explanation on what they called the "cold ones", whatever they were. Scully, of course, rolled her eyes and tried to call him back to reality. Yet, she didn't have much to offer. Her autopsy had been unsettling, showing a body drained of his blood with puncture wounds on his arms. The word vampire was but a breath away; yet Mulder knew her enough not to push his conclusions … not at the moment anyway. Scully always needed some time to come to terms with whatever inexplicable things they stumbled upon.

Night was falling, painting the place in subdued colours. From the backseat, Frances watched the greyish sky turn darker. Forks was rainier that any place in America, a town she'd rather not live in on a daily basis. Without warning, Mulder slammed on the breaks, the tyres screeching in protests as the car stopped awkwardly on the side of the road.

\- "What the …?"

The road was as deserted as the Sahara, a slight drizzle soaking it wet as dusk settled. But something was crossing, a human form running so fast that it seemed impossible.

\- "There!" came Scully's strained voice.

Her head turning instantly to the woods, Frances watched as a human figure disappeared in the trees so fast that her eyes struggled to follow. Excited, Mulder sprang from his seat in pursuit.

\- "Stay close!" he yelled at the two women behind him.

Scully rolled her eyes, but didn't comment on the necessity to launch themselves in the forest at night. Her instincts were as good as they come, and she turned to Frances.

\- "Keep your gun at hand."

\- "Noted."

Then she darted off to the woods, Frances close on her heels. The agent knew that her intern could hold her ground, and would not have trouble following her short legs. They'd been working for two and a half years together now, and she knew what extensive training Frances had been put through in Interpol. The teen was strangely resilient, and was now quite proficient in hand to hand combat and shooting. Needless to say, that Scully was less worried about her than about Mulder who had the terrible tendency to jump into troublesome situations. So she ran, following Mulder's muffled sounds as he climbed the hill with his long strides. Rain, dark and forest did not sit well with her, but in the end she settled her heart by remembering that they only tracked a human figure. A very sneaky, and very fast human. And that two pairs of hands would be better than one. Frances' presence on her heels was a welcome reinforcement.

The suspect led them on a merry chase, never once showing his face as the three agents followed. Very soon though, there was no trail to be found anymore. Fishing out his torch, Mulder puzzled over the disappearance of the suspect's tracks. It was as if the man had just vanished into thin air, or jumped into the trees and continued his mad dash like a squirrel. Scully's arrival interrupted his musings, and the agent lifted his eyes to her. Her auburn hair askew, her cheeks flushed and face coated in sweat and drizzle, he found her lovely. Silence descended upon them, and Scully frowned, her blue eyes widening slightly. The flash of concern reflected in Mulder's gaze as he pointed his flashlight behind her.

\- "Where is Frances?"

\- "She was right behind me!"

But the young woman was nowhere to be found, and darkness had settled. Fear pooled in the pit of Mulder's stomach. If something happened to her, he'd never forgive himself.


	2. Chapter 2 - Abducted

**Hey ! I want to thank my very first reviewer for his feedbacks, and counsels as well. Since this is mainly based on Carlisle Cullen, I will keep it in the Twilight section for a while. It might migrate someday to the crossover section with the X-files ****😊 In the meantime, don't hesitate to tell me what you like, and what you don't ! Reviews feed my muse.**

A wave of dizziness overcame Frances when her eyes eventually deign to open. The young woman closed them instantly, but not quickly enough to miss the silhouette beside her. The smell of wood and polishing wax was enough to indicate that she wasn't in hospital. There were other familiar smells as well; books and leather. A library? A strange wave of relief passed over her, a wave that was absolutely out of place given that she had been abducted. Of this, there was no doubt, for her memory was quite clear. She had been running in the woods, following Scully's red hair when her nose had picked up a terrible scent. Chloroform. The dose had been mild, for she was not experiencing the splitting headache, nor the nausea that should have come with it. Yet, she could remember the coldness of the wind on her skin, and the incredible strength of the hands that had lifted her on a very cold shoulder, a running man's shoulder. The souvenirs were a blur, but the sensation imbedded into her brain. There had been a swift but short time when Frances had felt like she flew through the woods, and then she was deposited with care on a sofa. Hence the leather.

No, she should not feel so relieved to be on another's couch, in a library. The wave of peacefulness was out of place. All right, she was unharmed, and unbound, but still a captive. Her clothes, though, were soaked, and there was no warmth in the room. Frances shivered, lifting a hand to her skull in an attempt to crack her eyes open under the cover of her palm.

\- "Get a blanket, Jasper," came a high-pitched voice.

The young woman then. A woosh was heard, and less than second later, a soft blanket landed on her limp form. Frances' hair flew slightly from the movement, as if the blanket had come at a tremendous speed. How weird, she had not seen anyone moving, but the lighting was quite minimal. Peeking under her hand was not efficient enough for her to make out the room, nor the people around her.

\- "Better?"

The voice was beautiful, like a melody and yet so soft. Fed up with being kept in the dark, Frances opened her eyes fully, and sat up on the couch, startling the three people present. One of them she already knew, the insanely beautiful doctor. The two others were younger, in their teens probably. A pixie-haired girl with a bright smile, and a blond-haired boy that seemed uncertain. Startled by their inner beauty that seemed so alike the doctor's, Frances locked eyes with the oldest one, her gaze hard. Seventy-three hours he had roamed her thoughts, seventy-three hours during which she had mused over their encounter, and drawn no conclusion about what he was.

\- "So we meet again," she stated cooly.

The doctor's gaze, as bright as a gold band, observed her without reservation.

\- "Well said, my lady Frances."

Righteous indignation rose at his words. Not only did he know her name while she ignored everything about him, but there seemed to be an underlying private joke that she could not catch. Fed up with the game, Frances was getting ready to lash out when a new wave of calmness fell upon her, like a weight of deadly acceptance to which her will begged to surrender. This time though, she was prepared for it, and pushed it back with furry. Standing up in a blur, she yelled.

\- "Are you trying to control me?"

The doctor's eyes widened slightly, and he gestured to the blond-haired boy.

\- "Jasper. Leave us, please"

As soon as the boy passed the door, Frances' anger resurfaced, the veil of peacefulness lifted from her. Now, though, it seemed that there was nothing to tame it. Her eyes filled with fury, she turned to the doctor. The leader that had yet to show a fit of temper. He was so calm, so collected that she felt like … not, she didn't feel like harming him. Was it another one of their tricks? The ability to mess with her emotions so that she would refrain from striking?

\- "Who are you people, and what do you want?"

Beside her, the little woman addressed her calmly.

\- "Please hear us. Then you are free to leave."

Frances snorted in disbelief.

\- "Really?"

\- "Truthfully"

Her voice was sincere, yet Frances could not prevent from doubting her words. What would prevent them from killing her and dumping her in the forest afterwards? She was, after all, defenceless. The door from the library banged open, and another teen with the same shade of copper eyes appeared. The boy pointed to her gun in the holster, his face more beautiful than that of model.

\- "You are not defenceless," he said with a pointed look.

Not a word was exchanged as he whirled out, earning a satisfied nod from the doctor. Dumbstruck, Frances sat down. On the scale of the weird things she had seen in her life, this definitely ranked high. She had been too dizziy to realized that her captors had not disarmed her. Feeling a little more at ease, the young lady sat back on the couch. Yet, the display of mind reading was a little unsettling. Did all those creatures possess the same gift ? The little woman handed her the blanket, and Frances laid it on her knees before turning her gaze back to Mister Universe, the insanely good-looking doctor. In the corridor, someone snorted loudly.

\- "Edward! Go away!" suddenly cried the little pixie seated by her side.

Frances nearly smiled at the exasperation of the teenager. The tone of the little woman's voice was the exact same one she used when trying to get rid of her brothers. Somehow, this little world she had fallen into had a family feeling to it. But she couldn't let her guard down, especially given the circumstances. The little pun about her hair came back to haunt her, and she warned the doctor before anyone felt like prying into her thoughts.

\- "All tight, I'm listening. And please, keep out of my mind."

The doctor's posture stiffened a bit, and he seemed to search for something in his mind for an instant before his smooth voice filled the library.

\- "Thank you, Frances, for doing so. I apologise for bringing you there in such a disgraceful manner. My name is Carlisle Cullen, and this is my daughter, Alice. I had the need to talk to you, but couldn't expose my family to the federal bureau. As you have already noted, we are … different, and try to keep our existence secret."

That was a mild way to put it. Different. In her mind, Frances was already rambling about a dozen theories. Why her, specifically? And how did they hope to keep out of the radar if they captured her? But first and foremost, what were they?

\- "So, you are not human?"

Carlisle settled back on his chair, his face slightly pained. As if the acceptance was still difficult.

\- "No, not any more"

Frances swallowed. There, she was stuck in a house full of non-human beings, four of them at least, able to manipulate her moods or even read her thoughts. That was just swell. And if Mulder's guess about the cold ones was correct, then they were…

\- "Vampires?"

Carlisle nodded slowly, carefully studying the young woman's features as she gave nothing away. Yet, he could hear the beating of her heart as she took the news. He could have sworn that the very notion of undead people threw her off balance, as much as it did for him all those years ago. Would she need time to process all the implications? Would she dare asking her questions to him? But then, something hard passed on her features as the young woman seemed to brace herself. The question that flew out of her mouth shocked him to the core.

\- "Am I a snack?"

\- "No! I'd never…"

Horrified, Carlisle choked on his response, his soul loaded with so much pain that the young woman winced in sympathy. How could she ask such a thing? He that had never hurt another human being? He that owed everything that he was today, his second life to her? Could she not see how important she was? How he nearly worshipped her?

Alice intervened that, for the first time in years, Carlisle struggled to regain his bearings. The others would not be pleased that a human could affect their father and mentor so.

\- "We do not harm humans. We are somewhat vegetarians."

Frances' lips upturned in a smirk, relief washing over her. She might not end up in tiny pieces after all, or drained altogether.

\- "Vegetarian. A smart way to put it"

The doctor smiled at her. And had she not been sitting, Frances knees would have given way such was the sincerity, the beauty of his beautiful features enlightened by his smile. The man, er, vampire was so dazzling that it prevented her from thinking properly. Probably a trait from their vampireness.

\- "It was a clever woman who introduced the concept to me. I appreciated the term, and choose to stick with it."

Frances nodded, her thoughts flying back to Scully's autopsy.

\- "But then, the killings…"

\- "Another set of Vampires that do not adhere to our code. They had been taken care of."

\- "By the Quileutes?"

The pixie snorted beside her, visibly impressed by the knowledge of a mere human. A proud look from her father suspiciously looked like 'I told you so' before his golden eyes came back to Frances.

\- "As well"

The answer was clear enough. Vampires had drained people in Forks, and the Quileutes had, somehow, taken care of the bunch, aided by the vegetarian family.

\- "All right. This explains that, and Scully will be pissed. But what does this have to do with me? And who was the man in the woods?"

\- "Ah, this was Edward. He is the fastest of us all. But fear not, your friends are safe, they are searching for you, but Emmet and Rosalie will ensure nothing happens to them."

\- "How many of you are there?"

Ah. There came the questions. Carlisle let his forearms rest on his knees as he prepared for the unavoidable queries she might have. And then, as if Frances had come of her own free will into their home, Carlisle explained to her what he was, and how he came upon his children, adopting them one by one, saving them from death. And Frances listened, accepting to take a tour of the house, her senses still weary, but realising that those vampires were not threat to her. She was introduced to Esme, a beautiful woman and mate to Carlisle, and his children, Jasper and Edward. Both of them apologised, after a pointed look from their father, for using their mind-reading skills and emotion manipulation on Frances.

\- "And you Alice? What is your skill?"

\- "I have foreseen your arrival in a vision," she simply answered.

And Frances, a frown marring her forehead, stared at the little vampire in thought. She needed to get back to Mulder and Scully as soon as possible, for they would be worried sick. But beforehand, she needed to understand what the vampire family wanted from her, and what she would tell them. And so far, they had not been forthcoming regarding the reason why they wanted to talk to her.

\- "Right. You see the future, pretty handy."

And Frances wondered if this whole ordeal had something to do with her little nick with time. For she had known for a long time that she, sometimes, could also see the future. Through dreams, or feeling, sometimes through a vision, a fleeting image. It didn't happen often, quite scarcely to be honest, but her feelings, dreams and intuitions had more often than not proven right. It was, after all, after a dream like this that she positioned herself in a tree with her bow in hand, and saved Mulder and Scully's life in the first place. Chance or destiny? Still, her own gift was nowhere as detailed as what Alice had just described.

Feeling bold, she then turned to Carlisle.

\- "And what's yours?"

The doctor's golden gaze held her for a moment, and once more, it was Alice who answered.

\- "Empathy"

Well, that couldn't be less explicit.

\- "Empathy?"

This time, it was Carlisle who explained, Esme taking hold of his arm in a tender gesture.

\- "For a long time, I was alone. Only when I met Edward and Alice did it occur to me that some vampires have a gift. I though none of it, I didn't claim any. But Alice has another opinion"

\- "I believe that Carlisle's natural empathy had been enhanced when he was turned. This is how he is able to be a doctor when none of us could,"

Frances nodded, realising the difficulty of being a blood sucker in an environment where human blood was flowing. Empathy would mean that Carlisle would feel strongly about others, hence willing to help them no matter what. And it started to make sense, given what she had just learnt of his character, and the swarm of adopted children that seemed so protective of him. And yet, something was nagging at the back of her mind. What if this gift went two ways? Could it be the reason why she also felt strongly about him? The reason why she didn't want to see his face frown, and his eyes sadden.

\- "All right. I think I am starting to get it. Hence the obvious question. What do you want from me? Why break the secrecy?"


	3. Chapter 3 - The Keeper of Time

**At last, we hear about the Keeper of Time ! As usual, I'm dying to know what you think of it. If you read, and like, please let le know. It can be very frustrating as a writer to have no feedbacks ! Cheers to you all !**

Silence descended upon them, lasting long enough so that the soft sounds of the night reached inside. The rain seemed to have stopped for a while, leaving in its wake the subtle scent of damp earth. Carlisle shifted line a nervous teenager, exchanging a meaningful look with his mate before offering his arm to Frances. The gesture, so old-fashioned, felt so right that the young lady laced her arm through his without a second thought. The coldness of his skin permeated through his shirt and woollen jumper. It should have spooked her, for Frances very much liked warm-blooded people on a daily basis, such as her cute boyfriend Charlie. Yet, she now felt at ease, as if her instincts screamed at her that Carlisle would protect her no matter what.

His angelic voice broke the silence of his footsteps as they ascended the open stairs in the grand living room.

\- "There is something I must give you. Something I have kept for a very long time."

Many questions should have been asked, but Frances let her intuition lead the conversation as she was too blurry minded to be inquisitive.

\- "How long?"

\- "Two hundred and twenty-six years exactly"

\- "That's a very long time."

Carlisle assented with a hum as he pushed the door to the library and moved aside. Sensing the shift in the mood, Frances passed him, and let him close the door behind her. She didn't know why she trusted those people to keep her safe, but the sense of danger had abated somehow. The doctor pulled a little velvet pouch from a drawer, and laid it on his desk. Gesturing to Frances to sit on the couch, he lowered himself cautiously on the other side of the leather sofa.

\- "Suit yourself," she told him. "I am not afraid, though Mulder will have my head for that."

Carlisle nodded, refraining from asking questions about her coworkers. It was, after all, quite uncommon for one so young to be part of a federal investigation, especially since he knew of her French origins. But there was no time for this; the clock was ticking, and very soon, he would have to surrender her to them. His golden eyes danced with warmth as he settled on the couch, noting that she didn't shy away from him. She knew his heart, and trusted him. The doctor wondered, if Frances had been a vampire, would she be like him? Her gift of empathy was written over her face. But time was short, and he needed to convey his message.

\- "I served as a doctor during the war of independence. One day on the battlefield, I found a young woman, her body covering a dead soldier."

Carlisle paused, his body tuned to the girl's heartbeat. He didn't know how far stretched her sensitivity; she seemed so innocent, so young! Her hazel eyes, though, begged him to continue, and he resumed his story.

\- "A bullet had got her; she was bleeding to death, and was aware of it. She had the most peculiar shade of hair, her straight blond almost silver in the light. And her ears … they were slightly pointed. I had never seen anything like it"

Frances' eyebrows lifted in surprise. She'd seen mutations and such, but never a set of pointed ears.

\- "Pointed you say? Like a birth defect?"

\- "I have mused a long time over this, but they were so perfect, and the woman had this inner glow as her life bleed from her. It couldn't possibly be a defect, not one to be corrected."

The young lady nodded, ready to hear the rest of the story and storing the information for later.

\- "So what happened?"

\- "When I turned her around to see if I could help her, she seized my hand and wouldn't let me go; she had an amazing strength for her build. I knelt by her side, and met her clouded gaze. She asked me to retrieve her necklace, once she would be dead, and bade me to safekeep in until the moment came."

\- "The moment?"

\- "The same words tumbled from my mouth. Her only answer was to mention, 'the Keeper of time'".

Frances' chocolate eyebrows almost met her hairline.

\- "The Keeper of Time? And what would that be?"

\- "I understood little of what she said, for she was babbling in a beautiful language I have never heard. But from what I gathered; she was the Keeper of Time. And couldn't designate another one, for she had strayed from her path, and died for it without regrets. Or so she said."

At this point, Carlisle expected Frances to leave the room, or comment on the insanity of it all. He was surprised to see the cogs wheeling in her mind, trying to make sense of the information she was fed with. The doctor sighed with relief; she had a solid head on her shoulders, even at that age. Obviously, the young woman had come across weirder things in her life. Or was incredibly naïve. Yet, she didn't strike like the type to fall for any fool's tale.

\- "Poor woman. Did she give any more information about that necklace, and how important it was?"

\- "She said that it should go to the next keeper of time. I was abashed, and tried to reason with her. Her last words were those: When you meet her, you will know. And then she exhaled her last breath, and I was left alone, free to heed her words, or reject them"

Carlisle closed his mouth then, letting the silence impregnate the moment. As a vampire, his memory was absolutely perfect, and he could still hear the cries of the dying, and the stench of blood and gore from that day. The deadened eyes of the beautiful maiden, the pool of crimson on her dress, and the hand she had kept secured to the soldiers' jacket.

\- "What was your choice then?" Frances whispered.

The doctor stood and, retrieving the velvet pouch from his desk, reverently dropped it in Frances' hands. The young lady's eyes widened, bringing more light into her irises as she attempted to guess his intentions.

\- "Open it"

Frances shuddered, weighted down by the implications. Did it mean what she thought it meant, was he giving the item to her, or just asking for her to give it peek? Frances' trembling fingers fumbled with the ribbon, so much that Carlisle's cold ones seized it to help her loosen the pouch. The brush of his icy skin elicited a shiver in Frances' spine, but she brushed it away. A necklace woven in shiny metal fell into her hands. The chain seemed solid enough, but not plain. Its design of imbricated strands had an otherworldly feel to it. Yet, it wasn't on the beautiful silvery wire that Frances' gaze was captured, for a blue gem shone in her palm. It sheer size, at least an inch, was extraordinary enough in itself. It has not been carved, only polished in an oval, as if breaking it would have been considered a crime. And its colour, this deep and bright blue, stunned her senses. As if the light of a thousand moons had been captured inside, making the gem glow with a magical light. Dumbstruck, the young woman turned to Carlisle.

\- "This is the necklace she wore?"

Carlisle nodded.

\- "The chain is long enough so that it can be hidden from plain sight."

And then, came the revelation.

\- "It is yours now."

Frances gaped openly as his words, calling forth a chuckle from the vampire. Quite an unladylike expression on her lovely face.

\- "I don't… I can't… I don't know what this is implying, but I don't think I'm up to any time-keeping tasks. Hell, I don't even know how that works, and I can't possibly have a busier life that what I have now,"

Stuttering, the young lady gathered the necklace back into its pouch, and stood. Carlisle's golden eyes were boring holes into her, increasing her state of panic. She could not, she would not accept one more responsibility, especially since she knew nothing of the circumstances. The doctor stood, his moves inhumanly graceful, and she took a step back. Stunned, Carlisle stopped dead in his tracks, his gaze so intense that Frances' heart nearly gave out.

\- "Please. Do not discard the idea so readily. It has waited for you for two hundred years, it can wait a little more. Time is of no consequence."

An air of certainty crossed Carlisle's features, and Frances felt her irritation rising. From the very beginning, something had felt off. As if he knew things that she didn't, as if he shared only one part of the story. And she'd be damned if she accepted an artefact that could very well strike her dead. In his eyes though, she could only read trust, and warmth. Once more, she wondered why the doctor was so fond of her. Perhaps his natural empathy? Was she even worth of being considered as such but a multicentenal being?

\- "Why me? Why, of all people, would you choose to give it to me?"

\- "Because you are up to the task."

To this, Frances snorted.

\- "You know nothing about me."

The doctor seemed stunned for an instant, his mouth closing before saying something he could regret. She could see, as plain as day, the debate occurring in Carlisle's brain. As if, indeed, he knew much more than he let on. Resigned, he chose to attack another angle.

\- "Because Alice has seen it. You are the next Keeper of Time. You have been chosen to be."

\- "By whom? By you?"

Carlisle lifted his hand, as if intend on touching her before retracting it.

\- "No. I am merely a messenger. But I love to think that some higher powers have a say in our lives. They have sent me some aid once, in the direst of times."

\- "All of this, Dr Cullen, it doesn't make sense. You are aware of it."

\- "Nay, my lady Frances. It didn't make sense until I saw you."

The young woman paused; his manner of speech seemed to revert to an oldish form of English when he was upset, like an accent resurfacing when not being mastered. Her eyes narrowed.

\- "How old are you?"

A pregnant pause followed, and then, his head was cocked to the side, as if listening to something she couldn't hear.

\- "We must move. The sheriff has mounted a search party for you. You must return to your colleagues."

The velvet pouch was forgotten on the couch, neither of them willing to resume the battle of will. Outside, the downpour has resumed; a standard occurrence for the city of Forks. Carlisle almost dragged her into his car, a brand-new Mercedes, and drove away on a rough trail until he popped on the soaked road. Frances had no time to greet any of his kids goodbye, her brain fried as the doctor drove at full speed. Too fast. Frances closed her eyes, the dizziness coming back full force. Then, they came upon several pick-ups with flashing lights. Carlisle parked his car a few feet away, and, taking advantage of the few seconds they had, conveyed all his hopes in one deep look of his golden eyes.

\- "Please trust me"

Then he was on the other side of the car, opening the door, and gathering her into his arms under the pouring rain. His cold skin was like rock, his arms like that of a statue. In a few moments, she was soaked again, and looking every part of the damsel in distress.

\- "Charlie!" he called, approaching slowly as if under the pressure of her weight.

But she knew better. The doctor didn't even flinch in his step as he carried her. The steadiness of his arms under her frame did not falter. The sherif's form came into view, and Carlisle's voice carried over the downpour.

\- "We found her in the woods near our house. Her jacket was torn, probably an animal, but no apparent wound, and I made sure she had no concussion. A little rest, though, would be needed."

\- "Thank God, you found her! Thank you Dr Cullen" came the sherif's voice.

\- "You're very welcome, Charlie."

Unwilling to break the role, Frances moaned softly as the doctor set her feet on the floor. She was so confused by it all; she needed time to process. Unfortunately, Mulder and Scully were on her in a flash. The hard thinking would have to be delayed. Carlisle escaped at once, wary of Mulder's inquisitive gaze. That was a smart move. For the moment, her teammate's worry was enough to cloud his judgement, but Frances knew that in normal circumstances, Mulder would have detected something fishy. As they talked to her, asking about what happened, to which she only answered the partial truth of her waking up in the doctor's house, feeling dizzy, Carlisle sent her a last warning look. 'Please be mindful of us, and my family', it conveyed. Frances blinked as his silhouette eyes disappeared in the car. How could he trust her with such dangerous knowledge? How did he know that she would protect him? Protect them? How could he possibly make such a bargain?

It seemed like eternity before Frances was allowed to rest. Mulder was throwing all sorts of theories on how the super fast suspect might have snatched her away, and Frances, for once, couldn't tell him how close he was to the truth. Somehow, she knew that the government would hunt this family down without respite. No matter how strongly she trusted Mulder, he would have to write a report. And she had no proof that they were innocent anyway, not a single fact to oppose them. If anyone up the ladder laid their hands on mind-reading immortals … then hell would break loose. No, she couldn't say anything. At last, Mulder and Scully seemed to realise her exhaustion, and they left to argue in the motel room next door.


	4. Chapter 4 - Alice's plea

**Hey readers. Thank you to my two reviewers, as usual, you made my day ! Here is the last installement of part 1. Next chapter will feature a time gap of 8 years, but you'll see that in the end, it should tie all the loose ends I've left here. I hope that you loved my version of Carlisle, Alice and Charlie.**

The wind scattered her fiery strands, inflating the white sails that surrounded her as she progressed on a narrow yardam. In the palm of her hand rested a sword, a beautiful blade slightly curved with foreign engravings. The weapon, an extension of her arm, was nearly humming in answer to her demands. It cut, diced, and swished around her in a deadly dance. Below her, the mariners went about their daily chores, no longer gaping at the witch with the red hair. She had won the battle, and saved so many of them. Especially young Calamy, one feat for which the captain would have kissed her. They accepted her now, all of them. The deck was clean, the air heavy with iodine and humidity, the uniforms spotless, and Jack Aubrey's tricorn in view. A uniform fit for the beginning of the 19th century.

And so, Frances danced through the sails, her fiery hair bouncing around her, her sword performing a kata. And she was the Keeper of Time, the witch with her magic sword, bound to help whenever needed, preserver of life. She was strong, stronger than ever. Her swordsmanship enhanced by the sword, a present from a mighty lord whose magic was embedded in the blade. Close to invincible, protected by the Gods who had chosen this path for her. All of it thanks to the necklace that rested between her breast, its weight a mighty reminder of the God's choice. In that very instant, Frances knew. There was no way around it ; she was exactly where she needed to be, what she needed to be.

It was the shuffling of Scully in the bathroom that woke her up. Slowly regaining consciousness, Frances had trouble getting rid of the pure sensation of bliss that had permeated through this dream. Closing her eyes, she swore she could still smell the Ocean, and the feeling of belonging came back. This elation, would she ever reach it?

\- "Feeling better?"

Frnaces opened her eyes, meeting Scully's blue, the legist searching for the remnants of a concussion. The young lady shrugged.

\- "I'm good actually, not even a cold."

\- "For now"

Frances smirked.

\- "Right. Thank for your optimism"

At this, Scully repressed a laugh.

\- "Optimism is the room next door."

The young woman chuckled at the sarcasm, yet she could not grudge Scully for being right. The legist was the only one grounding Mulder, enough to prevent him from shooting in all directions. Especially since Frances seemed keen on following in his footsteps. Being pessimistic was necessary; Scully was their survival instinct. As Frances climbed into the hot shower, she let her thoughts run free. Somehow, with the jet lag, she should have been up at 4 in the morning. But the dream had been so intense, so important that her body didn't deign to wake up. Weird. There was no time to dwell on it, as they were supposed to meet with the Sheriff this morning. So far, she didn't know how she would be able to share the little knowledge she had about the killings in Forks without implicating the Cullen family. Silence would be the safest option of all, she mused. There, she was the villain in the investigation now, hiding the truth…

This is how, after a quick and unhealthy breakfast, Frances reclaimed her spot in the backseat as Mulder and Scully's banter filled the little time to the Sheriff's office. Said sheriff, Charlie he insisted she called him, look relieved to see her safe and sound, even if a little troubled. The man blamed her mood on the misadventure of precedent day, and left it at that. The two agents, the intern and the Sheriff closed his office door, and a heated discussion started regarding the latest murder. The troublesome findings of Scully, having done the autopsy, caused the man to frown deeply. He had nothing to answer the draining and puncture wounds on the body.

\- "Hey. I have never seen such a thing. This is why I called you guys, I though the FBI could get me answers. Do you have some?"

Mulder shook his head.

\- "Unfortunately, not yet. We have more questions though."

The Sheriff sighed, and sunk in his chair, disheartened to be on the grill again. Obviously, those special agents were not going anywhere.

\- "Questions… All right, what do you want to know?"

\- "We visited the Quileutes reserve yesterday. They might have mentioned old legends, cold ones that drain people. Does it ring a bell?"

The sheriff frowned. Unbeknownst to the agents, the leader of the Quileute tribe, Billy, was one of his closest friends. He did not like one bit the direction their questioning was heading to. Mulder's eyes were reading his body language, the discomfort so clear on his face that even Frances could read it. Truth be told, she had caught a weird vibe in the Quileutes' camping car. And the smell of dogs, albeit she could see none around them. But they had not mentioned anything about the cold ones. Had Mulder found it in the book he insisted on purchasing yesterday evening?

Carlisle Cullen had mentioned that the members of the Quileutes had helped get rid of the murderers. She wondered how, especially since vampires seemed to possess inhuman strength and speed. Maybe she could ask the Cullen family. No, this wouldn't do. The less she knew, the less she would be susceptible to give away.

At the moment though, this Quileute interrogation was getting nowhere, since the Sheriff seemed intend on being a brick wall. Scully observed, her blue eyes fixed on the man, trying to see through the lies. The Sheriff seemed indignant, rightly so, that his Quileutes friends might be implicated in the murder. She shared a look with her partner, causing Mulder to change strategy. The complete 180 was unexpected.

\- "So, this Dr. Cullen, is he trustworthy?"

Frances started, refraining from straightening in her chair at the mention of the doctor. Mulder was suspicious, and rightly so. Fortunately, both agents' gazes were focused on the Sheriff; if not, they'd have spotted the uncomfortable look on their trainee's face. She needed to get out of here if she didn't want to sell secrets no one was ready to hear about. Right, maybe Mulder would believe her, and understand, but what would happen next? She couldn't expose the Cullen family. Fortunately, Charlie stood from his chair, the legs scrapping against the tiled floor.

\- "The Cullen family has done nothing but good in this town! Don't listen to what people say, their kids do not cause trouble, and the doctor has great expertise. He could be working in any hospital of prestige, and yet he stays here, in the service of a small town. They are good people. Don't go about disturbing them,"

Gaping, Frances smiled. Well, the Cullen family might be vampires, but they had a dutiful worshipper in the person of the Sheriff. That was just neat. Mulder's shoulders slumped in defeat. Every angle he tried sent him back to the wall. Was the Sheriff really sincere about him seeking the truth? Turning to Frances, Mulder started a question about last night's events when a knock interrupted them.

\- "Yeah?" called the Sheriff.

Frances exhaled slowly as the door slightly opened, that was close! A young policeman passed his head through the opening.

\- "I'm sorry to interrupt, Sheriff, but the young Alice is here. She says the FBI intern forgot something at their house, and she wants to return the item herself"

Startled, Frances' brain took a little while to process the information. The timing was impeccable; had Alice known she was about to be interrogated about her family? And the sneaky pixie had navigated the waters with brio: the policeman seemed persuaded that the item was something to do with some women's secret item since Alice wanted to give it back personally. What better way to prevent embarrassing questions that to hint at something like this? Like the day when Frances had piled up her lingerie at the top of her suitcase to prevent the custom guys to roam her luggage too much. Standing from her chair, Frances waved her fellow agents' concerns away.

\- "All right. I'll go, and be back soon. Don't interrupt this conversation because of my missing."

Mulder nodded, and Frances slipped through the door as quietly as a mouse. Phew! The young policeman led her to Alice, his eyes fully enthralled by the young pixie seated in a chair. The vampire charm she oozed would be responsible for a few heart attacks, especially since she gave Frances a thousand-watt smile when she spotted her. Had she turned her head aside, Frances would have seen the look of disbelief on the policeman, and his attempts at picking his jaw off the floor. As it was, the FBI trainee could only lift an eyebrow in interrogation.

\- "Come," said Alice while looping their arms together, "there is something you left at my house."

Frances started at the coldness of her skin. Alice's arm was hard, like a marble statue, and she dragged her outside in the drizzle.

\- "Lovely country," grumbled Frances as she pulled her hood up.

Alice, facing her, seemed unfazed by the rain.

\- "I am sorry for the imposition, but I couldn't risk them to interrogate you in Charlie's presence."

Frances nodded, earning a silent approval from the petite vampire. She had expected surprise, an exclamation perhaps for her timely interruption, but not the quiet agreement that the FBI trainee sported. Smart woman; she had accepted Alice's gift of foresight already.

\- "I am here to tell you about Carlisle, if you will listen…"

The sentence was left hanging, an opening for Frances to accept or deny her request.

\- " … and give me the necklace?"

This time, Alice's eyes widened slightly, taken aback by the acceptance in the woman's tone. Well, it would be easier than expected. But more than that, something was nagging at the back of her mind, something very familiar.

\- "Do you have a gift with time, Frances?"

\- "I very well might"

Alice's perfect eyebrow met her hairline, waiting for more.

\- "Sometimes yes, I feel like I do. I have dreams, images, impressions, some certainties as well. Sometimes, they only make sense after events have happened."

The vampire's expression lightened.

\- "Oh… I wonder if it was like this, for me, before I…"

Before I died. She couldn't say it aloud, of course, because they still were under the porch of the police station. Yet, this was the best they would get. There was no way Frances could visit the Cullen's without raising suspicions.

\- "Listen. We do not have much time. I will not beg you, Frances, to take what is yours. But I know my vision to be right. You are the Keeper of time."

\- "I know"

\- "You know?"

\- "I had a dream, of the future. I was the Keeper of Time. I don't know if I succeeded in my endeavours, but I seemed satisfied with it. And I was a redhead! Wow."

Alice smiled.

\- "Neat"

\- "Yeah… Anyway. I am not ready now, to take this mantle, but someday I will be."

A sweet expression lightened Alice's features, her beauty radiating like a beacon in the dark. Her tiny hand extracted the velvet pouch from her pocket, and she gave it to Frances. Without a word, the trainee picked it up and secured it into her pocket. There were no more words needed, the only noise the splashing of cars on the road, and the tickling of water falling from the roof. Eventually, Frances remember Alice's first words.

\- "You wanted to tell me something about Carlisle."

\- "Yeah. He doesn't talk about it much, but Carlisle had a rough beginning. It was easier for us when … you know, because he was here to guide us. But he was alone, for such a long time, and he hid, and hated himself for being this creature."

\- "Why?"

\- "It was the 17th-century Frances, and his father, a pastor, had been hunting witches and alike for a long time. Can you imagine the pain of Carlisle when he realised what he had become?"

Frances shook her head. No, she couldn't understand the distress and self-loathing the poor doctor must have been through. And there was more, much more than Alice was not saying, things that she couldn't grasp. Things about hunger for blood. Suddenly, Alice's head was cocked aside. Frances frowned; she had seen the same expression of intense concentration on Carlisle's face the day before; the vampire was listening to something she couldn't hear. Her golden eyes narrowed, and the seized Frances' hand strongly.

\- "They are coming. But you need to know. He met a woman, she told him he was entitled to live, be a vegetarian, and do some good in this world. She convinced him, and helped him adjust. You too can do some good, Frances, with this power. Use is wisely. And no one must ever know you know; you risk being spotted by the coven, they would hunt you down, and your family as well. Be careful, be safe!"

There was too much information, and it seemed Alice had jumped from pillar to post without any common theme. Time was short, though, and before she could ask any of the questions that jostled in her mind, Scully's voice called to her.

\- "Are you done, Frances?"

Beside her, the Sheriff appeared, a wide smile on his lips.

\- "Hello Alice, I trust you are well."

His greeting was a clear challenge addressed to the FBI agents who were wise enough to stay subdued. Mulder, though, was fuming. Alice popped a hat from her pocket, and stuck it on her head to keep her golden eyes from standing out.

\- "Yes. I wanted to return the necklace we found on our steps. It probably fell when we took Frances inside, and Carlisle fixed the dent on the clasp."

\- "That is very nice of you."

\- "Not at all. After all, we're the same age, I know how important trinkets are to us, ladies!"

At this, Alice winked at Frances.

\- "Anyway, I must be going before I miss my next class. See you later, Charlie!"

\- "Bye Alice"

The sheriff waited until the young woman was out of earshot – which, in truth, couldn't happen – before saying the next words.

\- "See. The Cullens are a very respectable family."

\- "Yes. They are."

Mulder turned his startled eyes to Frances, the conviction in her gaze a little unnerving. He was clearly outnumbered this time, and his legendary stubbornness would not get him anywhere. Fighting against Scully when Frances supported him was one thing, but having the two ladies set against his theories … he would get nowhere. The agent sighed, defeated.

\- "All right then, let's get going. And thank you for your help, Sheriff Swan."

Wasn't it ridiculous, this surname, 'Swan', especially for a sheriff. Anyway, the irony in Mulder's voice was not lost on Frances. She felt bad to lie to him, especially since he was, once more, on the right trail. Someday, she would have to apologise for not supporting him, for making him believe his instincts were going haywire. Someday…

Washington airport was disappearing in the distance, its lines of grey roofs and creamy concrete tracks giving way to grassy hills and forests. The plane urned north immédiatly, following the the coastline from afar until it doved above the endless sea. Frances reclined in her seat; the flight would be long before she made her connection in Amsterdam Schiphol. She much preferred it, connecting in the Netherlands rather than in Paris. The airport was much more efficient that the horrendous Charles de Gaulles and the horrible French border control whose people wouldn't smile even in death. For the moment though, her thoughts were occupied by the velvet pouch in her inner pocket.

Qustions had been asked, of course, about the necklace. And for the first time in years, Frances had actually lied. Surprisingly, it came rather naturally, for she was convinced of the interest of keeping this inheritance a secret. There were no doubts in her mind, no fears as she claimed the necklace rightfully hers. This, in itself, was weird enough. She should have wondered about the many implications or lying to her friends, of the possible consequences and powers of this heirloom, of the possibility that it could backfire and kill her, or cause a major incident. But it didn't feel as bad as it should, and Frances dismissed it on her exhaustion. It was, in truth, the only explanation; she wasn't ready to accept that the necklace had claimed her as the Keeper of Time, or that she had claimed the artefact likewise.

Now that she was away from Mulder's prying eyes, and Scully's lifted eyebrows, her mind could roam freely. And it held a thousand questions, all of them unanswered. Fishing the little bag out of her vest, the young woman contemplated the iridescent gem anew. Its blue ranged from the clearest blue of a mountain sky to the depth of the abyss, the colour changing with the light, yet the most beautiful she had ever witnessed. And the chains interlaced in braids, the patterns finely chiselled, a work of art! Yet, it seemed solid enough. Was it silver? Or white gold? Frances couldn't decide, for it shone brightly, like the light of the full moon on a landscape; less stern than the first, and deeper than the second. To say that she knew nothing about jewels was an understatement.

Frances clasped the artefact around her neck, tucking it under her shirt. The heaviness surprised her, the jewel falling on her chest, hidden in the valley of her breasts. It would take some getting used to. As she scrunched the velvet pouch in her hand to tug it back inside her pocket, she was surprised by its rigidity. Peeking inside, Frances fished out a simple doctor's business card, slightly bent from her mistreatment. "Carlisle Cullen, Forks Hospital". His professional number was there, and then, written below in beautiful broad strokes and fine strokes, was his personal cell number. A funny paradow, to write a modern number with a 17th century writing. Lifting an eyebrow with a smile, Frances turned the card around. Two simple sentences were beautifully drawn with a fountain pen.

'Someday, you'll know. And once you do, give me a call.'

Carlisle.

'Well, cryptic much!', she thought. Wasn't it bad to know too much about one's future? Little did she know that this particular phone call would have to wait eight more years. The henna though, did not, for Frances got back to class, her hair was dyed dark red by a henna. The Keeper of Time was ready to take on whatever life wanted to throw at her.


	5. Chapter 5 - Where time doesn't matter

**Hyia. So we're getting to the second part of this story. Here is a little summary of what happened to Frances between 2002 and 2010:**

**Frances took an internship with the Stargate program (check 'Fran in the stars' story'). In the meantime, she discovered the special power of her artefact: it transports her to another place (alternate reality or planet) or time to complete a mission, then calls her back to her own world. Frances travelled to the 'Lord of the rings' world ('Innocence's journey' is completed). She has gained a magic sword forged by Glorfindel, and perfected the skill in Japan in the 19th century (The last Samuraï/Ruroni Kenshin), realising that her sword was magically connected to her, and could cut through metal if she was in the right state of mind. **

**The dream from the previous chapter is from one of Frances' travels where she gets stranded on a Man-O-War (story 'le navire' from the Master and Commander movie) and picks up the habit to dance on the yards while doing her Katas. Weird woman, I know.**

**I don't want to spoil my other stories too much, so I'll keep it at that. Her character though, has evolved a lot in those eight years.**

2010 – Montpellier – France

Her necklace was calling again, its blue glow traversing the linen t-shirt she was sporting. Damn, never a minute of rest! Frances picked up her emergency bag, dressing in her elvish travelling clothes and strapping the scabbard of her sword to her leather belt. Antibiotics and first aid kid was checked thoroughly, snacks, survival blanket and all the standard SGC equipment was shoved inside as well. Then came the last step, a quick SMS to her cousin, her own little procedure. Frances typed the message quickly, keeping it simple. 'Nouvelle mission, cousine. J'y vais' (New mission, cousin. I'm going). If she did not return, Cécile would be able to tell her parents how she died … well, not how, but at least, why. Once back, since she tended to appear at the exact same moment she was transported; she could then call her cousin and tell her all the juicy details of her mission.

What would it be this time? The end of the world? Another dimension with flying bunnies? The past, the future? A place with no humans? Frances braided her hair tight, inserting clips and securing the end of her long reddish strands with a plain rubber band. It fell past her waist now, almost to her hips. There, she was ready. Peeking at herself in the mirror of her bright corridor – this new flat was nice enough, but nowhere as fantastic as he Norwegian one had been last year – she let her eyes roam over her form. Boots! she had forgotten her boots. Sliding on the supple leather boots, she checked herself once more. Cloak – check, boots – check, weapon hidden below the cloak – check, backpack – check. Bow, quiver and arrows. Check. Magical shining necklace getting impatient… Frances sighed. Check. The young woman seized the jewel with her left hand, and disappeared in a flash of blue light.

As usual, the sensation of falling overtook her senses, and her stomach clenched uncomfortably as she let the flow guide her to her landing place. After travelling with the Stargate, she was getting used to being dematerialised and reconstructed, but it didn't mean she had to like it. Said landing was, as usual, quite harsh and moments passed before Frances realised she was sprawled on the grass, her cheek encased in dirt. No one in sight, good. Blinking rapidly, the young woman lifted herself from the ground. The landscape swam around her, and she stopped, crawling on all fours, trying to adjust her vision to this new place.

An ancient church cast its shadows upon the hill, a sturdy edifice made of granite with a very familiar style. If she was on earth, Frances would have guessed England, Scotland or French Brittany. The few voices that hovered on the path a little further taught her everything she needed to know. England it was then. Frances took a little while to adjust to her surroundings, hidden by a tall slab of granite (it was strangely refreshing, after all the calcite of Montpellier) wondering about the period she had landed into. Would her medieval attire be too outdated? Frowned upon? What about the sword, was it allowed to be armed?

Eventually, the voices died and Frances stood. Her eyes landed on the tombstone that hid her appearance, and she gasped.

"To my beloved son,

Carlisle Cullen

1640 – 1663"

Well, that narrowed it down a bit. Since tombstones were not kept for more than a century in England, it couldn't be further than 1763. Yet, something told her that Carlisle Cullen had not been dead for long. What else could be the reason of her appearance beside his grave?

Memories flooded her mind as she recalled her first encounter, eight years ago, with the devilishly handsome doctor of Forks' hospital. The necklace, the Keeper of Time' gift, had entailed so much she wasn't expecting. Those trips had made her what she was. Legolas's love, and the sword that Glorfindel has bestowed upon her on Lord Elrond's request. Her time in the English navy, fighting against Napoleon, that bastard using mercenaries! Her trip to Japan as the Americans were attempting to subdue the country to its trading agreements. All of this because of Carlisle, because of his trust in her! She had learnt so much, suffered as well, but become a fierce warrior thanks to those missions, the missions of the Valar. Many times, the sword had saved her life, especially with the stargate program. Today, she was faster, stronger in mind and body, that she ever would have been. And her will was much sturdier than it used to be when she met Carlisle … in the future!

The implications of this time loop left her brain cells burning. She needed to move out of here, and meet people in order to determine the aim of this mission. She had never got so far back in time, this would certainly be interesting. Frances stood, motionless, trying to pick up a direction. On the south end of the churchyard laid a path paved with granite blocks, probably the one leading to the city. On the other side… The other side was held by a luxuriant forest, so dense, so beautiful that it reminded her of the Greenwood, Legolas's childhood lands. There were no places left like this in Europe nowadays, a pity for she longed for the trees. South of France was utterly and totally devoid of it, the dry earth sporting spiky bushes and tortured olive trees. Following a hunch, Frances turned north, her long legs leading her to the edge in a few strides. The scent of humus and wet earth called a smile to her face. Yes. This would do fine. The air was warm enough to keep her from freezing at night, and she could hunt if she needed to. Not that she appreciated skinning a rabbit of a deer, but hey, beggars couldn't be choosers. She'd have to eat at some point.

The forest was denser than any she had come across since middle earth, a little damp, but not unfriendly. As she progressed in silence, Frances's hand roamed across trunks and bushes, her fingers greeting the trees as she went. Legolas had taught her well, but with her human heritage, she couldn't hear their answers. Yet, it felt as if she was on the right path. A few hours later, the gurgling of streaming water greeted her ears. Frances sighed, she would be able to replenish her flask with clear water and her feet were getting sore. Electing a rather large rock, its surface rounded by the weather and years of watching over the river, she sat down. So far, she had not found any living being that could give her clues about the reasons of her presence. It was a little disappointing, but not unexpected.

And then, a splashing noise echoed behind her in the silence of the forest. Frances turned around instantly, crouching behind the rock, her hand flying to her hip to rest on her sword. Armed with the mighty weapon of Glorfindel, she had nothing to fear from men provided they didn't possess guns. Yet, being careful was embedded in her skin. Her hazel eyes widened slightly ad she took on the form that was emerging from the water. His clothes hung around his body, soaking wet, clinging to his skin. His blond hair fell around his face, his eyes shut to the world, as if in refusal to acknowledge it. A wail greeted Frances' hears, a wail so desperate that her heart broke, and the man unleashed his despair by pouncing into the water. His rage was great, fuelled by desperation as his fists hit the water. The silhouette stilled suddenly, and straightened, his nose up in the air. Sniffing once, maybe twice, the man turned his head in her direction. Frances shifted, ready to run at the first sight of trouble and her grip tightened on the guard of her elvish sword. The blade seemed ready to spring from its scabbard. When the man's eyes opened, Frances gasped. Albeit he was more than fifty yards away, his gaze found the young woman instantly. The realisation hit her like a brick wall, making her mind reel. It was no man she was facing, but a vampire. A vampire she knew well, except that his irises used to be golden, not this unsettling mix of blood red and pitch black.

Carlisle froze, his body twitching, yearning for the hunt, yearning for human blood. The coldness of the water didn't even register in his mind, the rush of the current feeble against his abnormal strength. But the sweet smell of blood. O Mighty Lord! It filled up his whole being, making his body sing, promising that the hunger would go away, that all his worries were naught if he could even catch a mouthful of her flowing life force. The redhead was starting at him, her body wary, her eyes filled with wonder. Carlisle felt himself climb on the river bank, his soaked shirt dripping on his breeches, his legs moving on their own accord. The lady straightened, ready to meet him. Then he could bite her, and quench his thirst for life. Another step, and she would be his … her life ended without flourish. His conscience hammered in his head, yelling at him to go away, to flee her sweet smell. His failure at drowning himself almost got him to surrender to his hunger. But Carlisle's will was stronger than that.

\- "No!" he screamed.

The vampire took off at full speed, hoping to put as much distance between himself and the lady before his resolve faltered. Behind him, he could hear the shuffle of leaves being crunched under her boots as she tried to follow him. The stupid woman! Did she have a death wish? He knew vampires were attractive to humans, a perk he had learnt as he let himself enthralled by the creature that killed him, that made him this stupid shell of a pastor's son. His father, poor father, would be horrified. Carlisle sped on, intend on shaking his pursuer off, but she held on. She was fast and light on her feet, for a human, and annoyingly stubborn as well. Of course, he had distanced her quickly, but the forest was not extended, and he could not run any further. Diving into the entrance of his hidden lair, Carlisle smacked against the back wall and froze, listening intently. Moments passed, moments where he mourned the loss of his heartbeat that should be hammering in his chest, the absence of sweat on his brow, of his chest that should be rising and falling from the exertion but obstinately stayed still. Dead. He was dead. And a dangerous creature. And unholy creature that couldn't even get rid of himself. Starving himself didn't work, drowning either, falling from a cliff hurt but the effect was, unfortunately, the same plain answer. Carlisle was still undead, still roaming the lands and getting hungrier.

A few muffled sounds came from the entrance of the cave, and her sweet smell came again, albeit a little mixed with the scent of this rotting place. She must be on the western side of the entrance, most of her fragrance carried away by the wind. She was either a smart woman, either a very lucky one. Yet, he didn't know how long he would resist. Carlisle sunk in the dirt, laying his face on the ground as he mumbled a prayer.

\- "Oh holy God, why do you tempt me so? I have tried to find my redemption and failed to kill myself. What would you have me do?"

\- "Carlisle! I know you're here"

Hearing his name on her lips stopped his ranting. How was this even possible?

\- "Stunned you into silence, uh?"

Her voice carried a little irony, as if she mocked an old friend. Was she as crazy as he was? She might very well be. Was she one of those witches that wanted to become a vampire? Her hair, after all, has been like a circle of fire around her head, like the witches his father used to hunt down and burn.

Silence stretched, and Frances waited for Carlisle Cullen to process whatever he needed to. From what Alice had told her many years ago, he was in a very fragile state of mind right now. It all made sense now. The revelation of seeing his gaze, his tortured mind oozing out of his orbs, had left the Keeper of Time speechless. But now that she was seated outside of his cave after hunting his tracks – thank Aragorn for his useful teachings – she understood. Carlisle Cullen had known her when he gave her the necklace, and he had known she was the Keeper of Time because they had already met. Comprehension filled every part of her mind as she remembered another of Alice's rambles. Carlisle had met a woman that had shaken him out of his stupor, and prevented him from killing himself. She had not realised then that the woman in question would be herself! Well, then, now was the time to get him out of his shell … cave. She prayed to God that she wouldn't mess this up. If not … the consequences could be dire. A paradox perhaps? Or the world crawling down? She'd have to ask Carter[1] when she got back; the scientist would know.

\- "Carlisle. Get out of there," she ordered.

\- "Leave me alone"

His voice was strained, desperate. So different from the soothing and controlled tone of Dr Cullen. If she had changed in the eight-year gap, she could not imagine how much had occurred to him in more than three centuries. The Carlisle that had bestowed the necklace to her had three hundred years to master his hunger … and anger. She needed to offer reassurance, to make him see that he was worthy of that second chance. But his beliefs – being the son of an integrist pastor – could only get in the way. This would be no easy task. Dropping the familiarity, Frances changed strategy. First of all, she needed to let him know that she wouldn't judge him for being a vampire.

\- "Carlisle. I've seen your grave. I know what happened to you."

A quick silence greeted this statement. Then, his voice came again, mush feebler than before.

\- "Don't tell my father please, it would kill him."

\- "I will not. Please come out, there is much I wish to share with you."

The answer was quick, cutting, filled with anger and fear.

\- "What is there to share with a monster?"

Frances sighed, pained to hear this. Was he as stubborn as she was?

\- "Carlisle … please"

\- "I'll kill you if I do. Your scent is already too strong here,"

Frances gasped, retreating a few feet back. Stupid, stupid woman!

\- "Better?"

\- "Slightly" came his muffled baritone, some measure of control settling in his voice.

Pausing, the young woman tried to ponder her options. Getting in the cave could only end in a fight, a fight she could not win against his strength. His speed has surprised her; she had not realised how inhuman Carlisle Cullen was in their first meeting. He kept those abilities hidden, and probably didn't use them often.

\- "Are you hungry?"

The vampire actually snorted, the sound echoing in the cave.

\- "Yes, daft woman! I am starving."

Frances chuckled. She'd never thought she would hear Carlisle Cullen call someone daft, and would keep that information very close to her chest until she could get him on the phone. Well, the future version of him, all politeness and etiquette in place. For now, the issue hung between them; she needed to address this first.

\- "All right, then, wait on, I'll be back."

\- "Don't come back"

\- "Whatever," answered Frances, taking her bow and quiver full of arrows. "Don't move from here, or I'll chase you to the end of the world."

* * *

[1] Samantha Carter from Stargate SG1


	6. Chapter 6 - Heart to heart (literally)

**Hello. so, we're getting to business. I thank all those who reviewed, I live for your kind words ! And I also hope that this chapter does not disappoint. Cheers to you on this lovely week end. **

A few hours passed, and Carlisle authorised his body to relax a little. The crazy woman was gone, her disappearance saving her life for he didn't know how long he would last without killing somebody. The sickening hunger was still there, gnawing at his entrails as the thirst tortured him, yet he dared not step out from his cave. His drowning attempt – thoroughly failed – had taught him a lesson. Carlisle could not kill the abomination he had become. Perhaps then, after many days of agony, he would eventually disintegrate and reach death. No creature could overcome starving, even if it took a hundred days.

Ô mighty God, what he would give to be dead! There were no words to express the hatred of himself, no amount of wailing or tears could ever be shed to excuse the sorry state he was in. For that was what he was, the poor excuse of himself, an empty shell inhabited by a monster, an ugly monster that awaited, prowling, for a prey to fall into its clutches. A monster than fed on other's blood, and extinguished it at the same time, stealing the lifeforce as their bodies got drained. Carlisle could not be 'this', his still and unbeating heart couldn't accept it.

The rushing of leaves and slight panting alerted him of something approaching. There was too much noise, like something being dragged on the floor. It couldn't be an animal, could it? The noise came, and stopped, but the panting didn't. Carlisle's red eyes narrowed, darkened by the hunger, his inner beast ready to leap out and pounce on the adventurous creature that dared offering itself outside. The vampire bit his lips in an attempt to control himself: they were hard as rocks, unrelenting, refusing to draw blood and give him the distraction of pain. The shuffle became so loud outside that he spread his arms against the rock, trying to anchor himself. To no avail. Just as he was about to bounce out of the cave, a voice addressed him.

\- "Carlisle. I got you a snack. Sorry, it isn't as fresh as it should, but I'm not a very skilled hunter. Will you come out now?'

The vampire's frown increased, and so did his inner turmoil. Had he been human, the young man would have been trembling all over from the strain of not attacking that crazy woman.

\- "Flee ‼! Flee before I kill you!" he bellowed.

\- "Come out, we need to talk. I brought you something to eat first. Then you can hunt on your own if it is not enough."

\- "Go away!"

The woman sighed, her voice exasperated as she continued:

\- "You are being difficult you know. Listen, I have my sword, you need no be afraid to harm me."

At this, Carlisle let out a mirthless laugh, his inner beast distracted, for a little while, from his goal: draining her dry.

\- "You daft woman, no blade can hurt me. I've tried."

\- "Yeah, I know…"

She knew. Before he could process this vital information, her voice coaxed him again.

\- "But believe me, this sword can. It's … erm, a little magic[1]. Listen, I'd love to make a demonstration, but I think you need to eat first, so you can think properly."

A growl erupted from him.

\- "Don't tempt me, woman!"

That's it, the beast won the fight, and Carlisle darted from his cave at full speed, aiming for the woman. In his haste, he didn't see the carcass that lay on the floor, and his feet tripped over it. The scent of her blood nearly unleashed him, but another one, not as delicious, came from his feet. Confused, the vampire crouched protectively over the carcass. Stunned, Carlisle lifted his bloodshot eyes to the woman, only to find her a few feet backwards, a blade firmly set in his direction. The woman was wary, good. His empathy relished at seeing her armed, while his inner beast sneered; no amount of skill could save her from him. Or so he thought! And then, the most incredible thing happened. The redhead exhaled, as if meditating, and the blade in her hands, slightly curved, started to shine. As if the sun had elected to pour into the metal, the weapon nearly blinded him. Yet, it didn't deter her, as her hazel eyes, nearly turned golden by the light reflecting into them, did not stray from him.

The glint in her gaze made his inner beast recoil. Yes, he could feel the fear oozing out of her; the woman was not an idiot, and knew who, here, was the predator, and who was the prey. Yet, she didn't back down. In a swift move born of of habit, the red head drew her blade down upon a huge rock and … the rock was clived, each part falling to an opposite side. Carlisle's eyes widened, his outer brain struggling with his reptilian brain to take control. Her voice rang clear, the fear kept at bay by the strength of her tone.

\- "This sword is like no other. It could kill you. If you so wish, I can grant death to you. But first, I want to talk. I brought you a deer. Eat"

The words hardly registered in his mind before his hunger took over. His inner beast knew not to advance on the woman and her magical sword. The cadaver at his feet, though, still emitted the faint smell of fresh blood. Before his mind could even register what he was doing, Carlisle bit through the fur, and quenched his thirst with long, big gulps.

Frances' hand trembled, fighting to keep her mind strained on the blade as Carlisle emptied the deer's veins from its blood. It was as disgusting at it was unsettling, but she could not dwell on the thought. Each time her spirit wandered away from the empowered state of meditation she had reached, the brightness of the blade flickered. If she let the magic of the Valar draw away from her sword, she'd be powerless to stop Carlisle. And quite frankly, she didn't think she could stop him, even with the blade humming: the vampire was too fast for her to follow. He could snap her neck in less time than it took to lift her eyes from the sickening display. Yet, she had to try. She owed him as much. And once his hunger was satisfied, he might be a little less jumpy, a little less dangerous.

Oh, she wouldn't get cuddly with him, that's for sure. But maybe they could talk, at least. Unless he reverted to call her daft, that is. This Carlisle was definitely less polite than his future counterpart, but hey, she'd be cranky too if she turned into a blood-sucking beastie. They'd be hell to pay, though, when she met Alice again. Sweet Alice; she had always known that Frances would be the one to get Carlisle out of his cave, didn't she? No pressure. The Keeper of Time sighed, concentrating again as her blade flickered. The sound alerted Carlisle who diverted his eyes from the deer, and let the carcass fall. Blood tricked down his chin, and Frances's grimace was enough for him to wipe it out with the back of his hand. Then he licked it from his fingers, his gaze considering. Damn vampires, so sensual, so deadly, so cold. Yuck!

Seemingly satisfied, Carlisle stood, a few sunrays hitting his skin. And then, something incredible happened as sparks erupted like a thousand little diamonds on his face. Frances' jaw grew slack, her meditation forgotten as her blade lost its glow. The young woman surmised that she had been fortunate; had she faced another vampire, her lapse would have killed her. But Carlisle didn't move an inch as she approached, lifting her hand before catching herself.

\- "You are beautiful in the sunlight," she whispered reverently.

His eyes still contained a red hue, but they seemed to be changing to something more golden. His gaze, though, had softened.

\- "And cursed…"

\- "No, Carlisle. A cursed being couldn't be so beautiful in the light."

And Frances' thoughts flew to Legolas whose hair shone like the sun when its rays graced his beautiful features.

\- "Can we speak, now, like civilised people?"

\- "Aye. I think I can manage. But first, tell me the truth. Can you really end my suffering with this blade?

Frances nodded, her eyes serious, her whole being screaming that she never could sever Carlisle's head. No matter how different, how primitive, how threatening he was from the one she had known, she could never kill him. But the blade, technically, could cut through everything once she reached the right meditative state. She knew now, how to get in tune with the blade, how to contact its magic core and extract its mighty power.

\- "Yeah. I think I can, albeit I would abhor doing so."

At this, Carlisle fell on his knees, his fair face lifting to the sky, his eyes closed in a rapture.

\- "Thank you… Ô mighty God, thank you for answering my prayers!"

His distress was so intense that Frances' heart clenched painfully. There was a long way to go still. The young woman gave him a few moments to gather his wits, and pointed to the dead deer.

\- "If you need to eat some more, there is a herd not so far from here. Well, not o far considering your speed. It took me long enough to drag that one here"

Carlisle took a moment to ponder the question, his eyes closing for an instant.

\- "It should be all right. Your scent is manageable now."

Frances nodded, half reassured. She remembered, from their explanations eight years ago, that animal blood was less satisfying that human blood. To quell her fear, she tried to jest.

\- "So, I'm no longer the steak, but a bar of chocolate at the end of the feast?"

Carlisle's handsome features contorted in a look of pure surprise.

\- "Chocolate? I hardly require medicine"

At this, Frances chuckled, her cheeks reddening.

\- "Damn, forgetting about the year … anyway. Are you well enough to converse with me?"

The young man cocked his head to the side, electing to stay silent but storing her little slip for later.

\- "I am well. Thank you"

She didn't know if the thanks were for the deer she had dragged from the depth of the wood, or the fact that she didn't treat him like a monster. Still, she wasn't one to spit on the progress. The vampire sat, his fingers fidgeting with the carcass as he gestured for her to do the same. His upbringing was showing, now that the hunger didn't torture him so much, as he seemed to recover his manners.

\- "Would you like to eat as well?"

Frances' eyebrows shot up to her hairline, her hazel eyes wide. For sure, there were 20 pounds of good meat awaiting her, but it wasn't a high priority on her list, and not a proposal she expected from him.

\- "Er. Not that the idea repels me, bit I have no idea how to cook such a huge beast."

\- "We could build a fire and put him on a stake."

\- "Yeah … right. I've only eaten reindeer you know, in Bergen."

\- "Bergen ?"

\- "Yeah. Hanseatic city, in Norway"

Carlisle nodded, seemingly happy to be discussing foreign countries and geography. His culture was already quite impressive for a man his age, and calling this theoretical knowledge seemed to put him at ease. But they were not conversing over tea, and his next move crumbled the last piece of civility they had established as he grabbed the carcass.

\- "All right. Then if you learnt from the Danish league, we can probably cut some filets…"

Frances jumped in front of the deer, suddenly repelled by the idea to skin such a lovely animal. Especially after the disgusting show she had just witnessed.

\- "No! Er… I seem to have forgotten my frying pan at home…"

The sarcasm didn't go unnoticed, but Carlisle let it go. There were enough subjects to cover, especially her recklessness, and the fact that his hunger had been somehow satiated by a deer, rather than discuss her cooking utensils. As Frances dragged the furry carcass away from them, he narrowed his eyes at her. Something as off with her mannerism. And her clothes, as well as her speech.

\- "How far is home, by the way? You are not from here."

\- "Always so perceptive…" she shot back, smiling at her private joke.

Those were the exact words Dr Cullen had said to her as they met for the first time at the coffee machine, in Frok's hospital.

\- "I fail to understand the humour in your words, my lady."

\- "Don't! Please don't go that way, been there, done that, this 'my lady' thing gets old very fast. I'm Frances. Period. Plain, old Frances. Nice to meet you … again,"

Carlisle frowned at her implication; she was certainly nor old, nor plain. But it wasn't the most important word in her sentence. Frances didn't offer her hand as she sat a few feet away, trying to keep her scent to herself and not pollute his skin with hers. She had witnessed, firsthand, how fragile his control was.

\- "Again?"

Frances sighed. This was going to be a difficult explanation.

\- "Out of the frying pan, into the fire…"

The vampire's unsettling eyes bore holes into her, daring her to explain her odd manner of speech, to tell him what she meant. Carlisle was no fool indeed, but how ready was his 17th-century brain to accept something like time travel? Frances faced a difficult choice: to tell him the truth about the Keeper of Time, or to lie to him and tell him she was a seer, having visions of his future to convince him to make a unlife for himself. The second solution was flawed though, for two excellent reasons. The first one was that Carlisle, as a vampire, had gained a great deal of empathy. He might unmask her at once, and tell she was lying. Her whole pep talk would be for naught if he didn't trust her. The second one, a more twisted reason, was that he needed to give her the necklace in the future, to recognise her the keeper of time.

But if she told the truth, there would be at least one man … er, vampire, on this world, that knew the story of the Keeper of Time. And her true missions, and the power contained into the necklace. For more than 350 years, someone would have this knowledge. How safe could this be? Especially since Carlisle was an immortal being, and bound to meet very dangerous people? Would she condemn herself in the process, put her family in danger? The implications were endless. It was a fine line indeed, a line she got ready to walk with the mental agility of a cat. Frances gave a silent prayer to the Valar, the ones that had created the jewel in the first place, and chosen her as their champion. May they grant her the wisdom to reveal what was needed, and hide the rest carefully.

\- "Your manner of speech really intrigues me, lady…"

\- "Ah!" she cried in a magnificent impersonation of Jack.[2]

The reaction she obtained from Carlisle was quite similar to what Daniel used to do when confronted by a pissed Jack O'Neill. The vampire relented, his head nodding in acceptance.

\- "Frances"

\- "Better. Carlisle. You probably want to know how I know you, and how I know of your condition."

The vampire merely gazed at her, his whole being unmoving. Frances shuddered. The stillness was creepy; his eyes did not blink, his chest did not move, the shirt on his skin unaffected by the heart that should have been beating below his skin. His paleness, the red-golden of his eyes. He resembled a marble statue, a magnificent and very cold marble statue. Very dead as well. Frances had never pondered on the fact that, after all the weird situation of her life – meeting aliens, ascended beings, having friends that died and resurrected as easily as they ate breakfast[3], marrying an elf, coddling a hobbit, fleeing from a Balrog or gutting orcs – she never came across a dead being. A talking, living dead being. And all those little things that no one lingered on became blatantly missing. Unconsciously, her mind was searching for all those signs, and it sent her a message of alarm, an unsettling feeling of danger because of their absence.

\- "You forget the most important point," came his melodic voice.

Frances' eyebrow twitched.

\- "Which would be?"

\- "Who are you?"

Coldness crept into Frances' bones. The Keeper of Time felt exposed, and she had to remind herself that Carlisle Cullen was a friend, a defender of humanity, a good man … no, vampire now. There was no turning back now.

* * *

[1] The sword was forged by Glorfindel, see 'innocence's journey' story. Its magic, though, is only discovered by Frances many years later in the crossover 'the last samurai/Ruroni Kenshin'. It is not posted yet.

[2] Stargate SG1, one of her best friends in 2010.

[3] Daniel Jackson again, Stargate SG1


	7. Chapter 7 - Future

**_Hey there. Poor Carlisle, it's been a while I didn't get back to him. This is high time that we discover the extend of their conversation, don't you think?_**

**_I think this is the second to last chapter of this short story. I hop eyou enjoy it and it coaxes you into reading more about Frances' story and travels. Cheers !_**

There it was, the red carpet unfolded for the much-dreaded discussion. Carlisle's unwavering gaze rested on her face, his unblinking red blood eyes as unsettling as his still countenance. Now that the door was open, Frances didn't know where to start. So she butted in.

— "First and foremost, can you tell me what the year is?"

The vampire sent her a startled look, wondering is she was, in fact, really crazy.

— "I was killed in the year 1663," came his beautiful voice. "I do not think I have been hiding for long. Time is excruciating long when you crave for blood."

His self-loathing was palpable, and Frances needed to steer him away from those depressing thoughts at once.

— "And you have resisted that call rather brilliantly. You have never killed, right?"

— "Not as a vampire … but as a human"

— "I am aware of your past, and your father's insistence of ridding the world of what he considered unholy."

The vampire's gaze bore holes into her, and Frances shuddered as the icy wave that washed over her.

— "Considers. He is alive still, and would kill me if he found me."

Kill you own son, your own flesh and blood.

— "Damn. You're right. This is why you hid in the pantry, I had forgotten."

Carlisle frowned, his expression suspicious. His father was rather known for his integrism around the outer edge of London, but Frances was an outlander. Of this, he was sure. For one, if she'd been a local, there was no way he wouldn't have remarked her. Her speech, her mannerism, her clothes. All of it screamed foreigner. So many things were left unsaid, and his sanity hung by a thread. Those mind games called for anger, for aggression, for blood. Blood, her red sweet-smelling blood. No! He couldn't give in. Carlisle took a step back, positioning himself in the entrance of his refuge. The air smelt different there, and he took a sniff of the familial scent of the damp cave.

— "How?"

Frances' eyes followed his movement, her hand still gripping the handle of her sword. Smart woman. It wouldn't save her, though. Even with a magical blade, her reflexes were no match for his.

— "Is it a long story? A story I am willing to recount now, if you are ready to hear it."

Carlisle nodded.

— "Most of what I know about you was recounted by your daughter."

A snort punctuated her revelation.

— "You are delusional. I have no daughter"

— "No, you don't, not now. But someday, three hundred years from now, you will adopt children. And Edward is a pain, by the way."

A ghost of a smile quirked her lips upwards, some kind of private joke, before she sobered and continued.

— "I am a time traveller. They call me the Keeper of Time. I am here to help history unfold the way it is supposed to. I met you in the future, you and your lovely vampire teenagers."

This time, Carlisle couldn't refrain from lashing out.

— "I was wrong about you. You are not daft, you are insane."

Frances didn't cry out, didn't insult him. She met his gaze squarely, her golden-brown boring holes into his own red. As if she understood his reaction, and decided to ignore the insult. They were, after all, way past formalities and the politenss required of a pastor's son.

— "A little, it would be hard not to be after all the mystical travels I've undertaken. Still, this is the plain truth. Are you willing to hear it ?"

She challenged him to deny her story, and he wanted nothing more. Carlisle had hunted witches and vampires his whole life, bathing in the teaching of his father and the holy church. Accepting the existence of those monsters and his part in their eradication had fuelled his faith. Becoming one of them, the greatest rip of his existence. And now … now came a woman who claimed to time travel. Time travel ‼! Could it be crazier than being a vampire? Carlisle watched her face, the sheer determination in her gaze, the glint of genuine care with which she considered him. Him, the most dangerous predator of humanity. Yes, he could feel her affection for him, as well as her wariness. How could that slip of a woman hold any tender feelings for a creature like him? That was intriguing, to say the least, along with her will to place herself in danger for his sake.

— "Tell me more"

— "I met you more than three hundred years from now. You are a kind, educated man, who adopted children whose life you saved. Your family is a lovely one, Carlisle, full of love and support. You lead them, care for them, and help them overcome their … difficulties,"

Frances didn't want to speak about bloodlust. In doubt, don't trigger it.

— "How can it be when I can hardly refrain from attacking you?"

— "In time, you have mastered it rather brilliantly. When I met you, I was attacked and you carried me, unconscious. You didn't attack me, neither did any of your children"

Carlisle suddenly sagged against the rock wall, resting his head backwards. He looked so vulnerable, so lost that Frances had to resist the urge to embrace him altogether. But he was not the man she'd met in Forks; this one was much more dangerous, and much less controlled. His anger, his moves told her that she needed to stay away. Frances stopped talking, giving him the time he needed to come to terms with the news she'd just thrown at him. It was a lot to take in. At last, he spoke, his voice flat.

— "What you speak of is redemption. A needless hope, that you wave before my eyes before you take it away."

Carlisle stood, his movement so fluid, so graceful that she adjusted her grip on the sword. But Frances was no stranger to fighting; she knew she didn't stand a chance should he attack her. She was, literally, a sitting duck waiting to be roasted. Fortunately, Carlisle knew his limits, and instead of taking a step forward, only shouted at her. A heartbroken cry that threatened to spill her tears.

— "I am soulless now, I am damned! Don't you see? A wretched creature of the devil"

Frances waited for his yells to abate, frozen to the spot. His pain touched her, his anger dangerous; her whole body was getting ready to flee, and she had to struggle against it to stay put. A mad dash could not help; he'd be on her in a heartbeat.

— "You are not soulless, Carlisle. You will get the love you deserve, and will love in return."

But the vampire couldn't hear her, his eyes set on his hands. They should have trembled from his distress. Had he been human, he would have felt his heart beat wildly, his breath shorten. But his hands were staring back at him, steady as rocks, skin milky white. It disgusted him!

— "I am cursed," he spat.

Frances exhaled slowly, trying to rein her heart to lessen the panic. Carlisle was a predator, he would smell the fear and adrenalin, and this, in turn, could trigger his hunting instincts.

— "A soulless creature cannot love," she eventually said.

— "Your words are empty, Frances."

The vampire whirled on himself, and suddenly knelt in the dirt, yelling at her. His musical voice held some inner strength, his cry so strong that birds flew away in distress.

— "Look at me! What do you see?"

She gave him the most sincere look she had ever addressed someone, hoping to convey her conviction. In any other circumstance, she would have laid a hand on his shoulder, but she feared to touch him.

— "I see a good person. A lost one, who's been through a difficult ordeal, and needs to find its inner light."

Carlisle shifted his weight backwards, putting a little distance between his prey and himself.

— "Nonsense," was his harsh reply. "I could kill you in a heartbeat. Your heartbeat"

— "I know. But you would forever regret it. Why did you resist hunger to let me live?"

The vampire paused, a flash of uncertainty marring his beautiful features.

— "I…"

There was the opening she had been waiting for, and Frances nailed it without mercy.

— "There is it, your soul. Tugging at your conscience. Your empathy, Carlisle, is what makes you the good person you are. It will guide you, sustain you, support you, and make you a great man."

— "I am a monster."

— "I've seen monsters. Fought them. You are nothing close to a monster, Carlisle. You are invincible, clever, and immortal now. You can do much good in the world, learn for countless years. From that day, you can choose whatever you want to be."

His reply was so low that Frances almost missed it.

— "God makes us what we are. Have I been so sinful that he turned me into this wretched creature?"

— "God gave you those skills so that you do something meaningful with it. Maybe it is so you accomplish things that you couldn't before?"

Carlisle sent her an exasperated look, and Frances realised it was time to change strategy. Shaking his religious beliefs was a lost cause, for now at least.

— "Do you think your father would have burnt me as a witch?"

The question caught him off guard, and Carlisle took a while to study the young woman before him, trying to see her through the eyes of her father. She was a redhead, wielded a magical sword, and talked about God in such a way that might seem very unholy. Yes. His father would be a danger to her. Yes, without a doubt.

— "Yes"

— "What about you?"

Carlisle paused. Under pressure of the mob, pressure of his father, he might very well have. Or maybe not.

— "I'm unsure"

— "Yet. As a vampire, you refuse to hurt me. See? "

The vampire nodded, and, as suddenly as lightning struck the earth, disappeared into the recesses of his refuge. Left behind, Frances retreated in the forest to blend her scent into the damp soil. Carlisle didn't appear this evening, and she built a small fire to keep herself warm. Her bag only contained a few energy bars, and she dined upon it before settling for the night. Her elvish cloaked securely folded around her slender frame, Frances slumbered uneasily. Needless to say, that bloodshot eyes plagued her dreams, and that she awoke every now and then drenched in a cold sweat. Damn this place, damn this situation! Frances wanted nothing more than to be at home, soaking in a warm bath forgetting about blood suckers and such. But she owed it to Carlisle. Because he was the one who had made her the Keeper of Time, and trusted in her. He was a good man … er vampire. He just needed to see it, and right now, she was the only one who could support him. Alice wouldn't be in the picture for three hundred more years.

At once, a wave of nostalgia hit her. Poor Carlisle, three hundred years roaming the world alone. He didn't deserve it. She'd been alone for many years as well, as the Keeper of Time, and it was sometimes a heavy burden to not be able to share her load with anyone. But she couldn't, in her good conscience, drag anyone into the mess of her life. So she carried on, dragged here and there by the magical necklace by the will of the Valar, making friends, and leaving them behind as she came back to her meaningless life.

Night embraced the forest like a lover, its low sounds and smells permeating through the breeze. There would be no sleep for Carlisle; being a vampire, sleep had eluded him the day of his changing. His mind was running a hundred miles a minute, pondering, hoping, rejecting. Outside, he heard the girl munch on something which smell was absolutely unappealing. Sugar, it seemed. Her heard every single sigh that escaped her lips, every shuffle of her form settling on the ground, every single cracking of the wood at it lay, helpless, in the brazen inferno of the fire.

Smoke and dirt, dampness and mould, fresh air and animal scent. But over it all, the most torturing smell was her blood, her deep red blood, running through her veins as her heart beat rhythmically. An entrancing dance, happening a few feet away from him, calling at the hollow of his throat, begging him to drain her dry and relieve the pain.

The young woman eventually fell asleep, leaving him alone in the night, pondering on the revelations of the day. What was the life of a time traveller? Where did she come from? When? How lonely could she be, dragged here and there without companions? Did she have a family waiting for her? Did she ever come back to them? To her birth place?

Those reflections brought him to another line of thinking. What about him? Could he trust her story? Would he be, three hundred years from now, the head of a loving family? A vampire with not killings under his belt, guiding others to protect mankind? Was it even possible, after being cursed and rejected by is God, to achieve such a goal? Somewhere in the pit of his stomach, a little light kindled. Hope. The crazy hope to become someone worth knowing.

A different scent suddenly filled his nostrils, an animal. Wolf. A lone wolf, probably starving without his pack, breathing heavily through the forest. It was still far enough not to be a danger to the young woman. Carlisle strained his senses, waiting, like a predator about to jump his prey. Patiently. Hours passed, the moon travelled in the sky, casting a moving light across the entrance of his little refuge. The wolf had yet to go. The creature seemed to circle the area, probably put off by the smell of fire. Until the last dying embers hissed under the light drizzle, its glow disappearing in the moonlight, the smoke clearing in the breeze until its smell disappeared entirely. The wolf caught the young woman's scent, its steps approaching slowly, silently. But Carlisle's senses were more attuned than any other creature in the world.

There was no mighty snarl, no galloping of canine's paws on the ground to warn him of the attack. But Carlisle knew. With a leap, the vampire shot out of his cave and sprang forward into the night.


	8. Chapter 8 - A new Dawn

_**Hey, long time no see ! I have been super busy with life and other texts, jugling mainly with a love story between Frances and Tristan (King Arthur). But I would like this story to be finished and wrapped up properly, hence this new chapter. And since I can't make it short... there will be another one after this one. **_

_**For those who read my stories about Tristan, you might find a very slight mention of him there. Tell me if you find it :)**_

_**I wish you all a very happy new year.**_

A month passed during which Frances constantly hammered reassurance into Carlisle's skull, dancing on the fine line of half-truths, camping on the outskirts of his cave. Little by little, the vampire built his tolerance to the sweet smell of human blood. Still, the young woman paid attention to remain unscathed, even when cooking and skinning animals, careful to never let him see of a drop of her blood. Both of them fell into a routine, Carlisle hunting animals, she skinning and cleaning them to sell them in town under his instructions. It made a little money – he would need it to start another life at some point – and kept her fed with other things than meat. It also provided with some much needed furs as winter was coming.

The necklace had not seen fit to send her back yet. Carlisle's mind was still wobbly, his hopes too faint to leave him on his own yet. Some days, they talked of their respective families, and lives before … before he was turned. Frances shared stories of her past in Lyon in the 21st century, telling him about insignificant things that couldn't possibly impact his knowledge of the future nor his life. She sometimes told him about how beautiful his mate was, or how loving his children would be. But she kept their names to herself, and never mentioned their unusual powers. Who knew? Revelations might very well upset the balance of his future life and influence his free will. It was good that Frances didn't know much about the Cullen family; nor the reasons why Carlisle had picked them, nor how or when they joined him. Still, the idea of not being alone, in the end, brought solace to his broken heart. For he lamented still about his father, and being a cursed soul. To this, Frances could only sigh; no amount of coaxing could convince him otherwise. Carlisle simply would have to learn for himself how beautiful his heart was.

As for the Keeper of Time; she kept the particulars secret as well. Preserving the future – their meetings – was a priority to avoid branching. He would know who she was, and realise, by meeting her again in Forks' hospital, that she was the recipient of the necklace. The Keeper of time he had been waiting ever since this woman with pointed ears and inner glow – probably an elf! – had bestowed upon him the necklace.

Companionship was born of silence and many nights exchanging point of view and stories. Frances found in Carlisle a very compassionate soul whose abruptness only surfaced when he was angry, or anguished. Little by little, his despair abated. She understood, now, the fondness she had read in his gaze, for she considered him a friend. She could barely imagine how difficult it would be, for him, to meet her again – younger – and be regarded as a threat in the future. And without the red hair, the mark of the Keeper of Time ever since those blasted Romans had dyed it with Henna! All loose ends were tied now.

And the more time she spent at his side, the more she respected him. It felt like being a nurse helping a man struggle out of an addiction with nothing more than his sheer will. Carlisle, aside from being more beautiful than Cupidon, used the tremendous reservoir of compassion within his heart to overcome his very nature. His control increased day by day until he was able sometimes, to touch her briefly. Traits of humour surfaced, making her laugh every now and then in good faith. They traded traditions, view on politics and history, she gave him a few hints on climate and geography around the world while he told her stories she could never have learnt in a history book. He told her of the use of chocolate as medicine, she coaxed him into tasting the last energy bar she had.

Often she sang beside her campfire, huddled below her settlement where now lay a makeshift roof of pine branches and needles to protect her from the harsh wind. Her voice soothed him, its purity reminding him of the beautiful songs he had heard in church. He asked for more, and she never disappointed, switching from the Ave Maria to more modern songs. Today, she was humming an Irish song, 'The boys of the old brigade'.

— "What is this one about?" he asked.

Frances jumped in the air, surprised by his sudden appearance. She had been in the process of roasting a hare and once more failed to pinpoint him. A harsh glare was her response, and Carlisle chuckled while he sat across the fire. The smell of smoke and roasted meat dulled hers; hence the reason why he always kept the campfire between them.

— "Do not be cross, I am gifted with inhuman speed after all."

The young woman frowned. Carlisle, if still fidgety, was starting to embrace his new nature. That made him even more dangerous, for despite her numerous years spent tracking, she was entirely at his mercy. But then, this was the reason why she had been called here after all.

— "This song is about the separatist army of Ireland."

— "They have an army?"

As always when dealing with the future, Frances tried to keep the specifics hazy. But Carlisle's curiosity and will to learn also allowed him to retrieve his inner trust. If his brain could be fed, it meant that his integrity remained. That the beast wasn't in control of his thoughts. Fortunately, the young woman knew next to nothing about the particulars, so she wouldn't lie to him.

— "They will, I guess. At some point, it would only be natural that Ireland would wish to be their own country, don't you think?"

— "Will they succeed?"

— "Er. Partly"

Carlisle nodded. The orange glow of the fire drew shadows across his beautiful chiselled features, a sight Frances had trouble tearing her gaze off. It was unsettling, sometimes, how inhuman the beauty of this man. So different from the inner glow of the elves, their brightness soothing to the soul while his appearance was addictive, nearly harsh. Unnatural. His golden gaze suddenly lifted to meet hers, and the young woman couldn't help but blush.

— "What is it?" he asked.

And his voice was controlled, almost as soft as the Carlisle she'd known in the future. Still, he felt so young. It was a little crazy, really, because the Dr Cullen of Forks had not aged an inch, but despite his ever-youthful features, he felt older. As if the wisdom he had acquired permeated in his aura. His eyes bore holes into her, and she decided to be blunt.

— "Are all vampires as beautiful as you are?" she asked.

And Carlisle snorted, his teeth baring in a sneer. Frances started; this was not the answer she expected when complimenting a man.

— "I wonder"

— "Explain"

The vampire's gaze lost itself in the fire, silence engulfing their little campsite as the night settled. The flames danced in his golden eyes, reviving the shades of red that were slowly seeping out of his irises. For a moment, Frances wondered if he would deign answer; she was almost surprised when he did.

— "This is what lured me. A female vampire, so beautiful… He skin of porcelain, smouldering eyes, hair of silk. I felt … helpless when she dragged me away, enthralled, utterly lost. I felt the danger, the inhuman beauty, but my body refused to flee. I almost begged her to touch me. Lured by a woman like a horny teenager! I died stupidly, my demise caused by my weakness."

— "But it is not your lust that lost you, Carlisle."

— "Tell me what you feel beside me."

A difficult question; one that showed how logical and level headed Carlisle was. Frances reclined against the trunk that guarded her back, her tongue brushing against her upper lip. How could she define the sensation?

— "I am very attuned to nature and people so you will have to extrapolate what I tell you to understand other human's reactions."

— "All right"

— "I feel … stunned. Your beauty is ethereal; every single feature of your face feels like it was carved by God himself. And yet you have this vibe, this very cold one that screams at me that you are a predator. Danger. But if my survival instinct wasn't so strong, I would beg you to touch me,"

Carlisle nodded again, his intense gaze set on her face and she couldn't help but blush at the remembrance of their first encounter in Forks' hospital. Alice was beautiful – just as Jasper, Edward and Esme – but not as magnetic as Carlisle was. As if his gift of empathy also made him more attractive. Perhaps it just resonated with her own.

— "I feel like I have to shield myself from your influence to think properly, as if my entire body is devoted to your will. And it is good I see you like a friend – I know you have your mate, somewhere in this world – for I doubt of my self-restraint if I had not considered you off-limits."

The vampire cocked his head aside, like an animal studying something intently before his shoulder sagged.

— "Well, this explains a lot."

Frances longed to reach for him; how she hated this restriction of contact when he so badly needed the comfort. She knew, though, where the guilt came from; his education at the hands of an integrist pastor had probably taught him the price of being a sinner.

— "You have not been weak, nor lustful Carlisle. You have been trapped and murdered."

Silence only greeted her words, and she wondered if he would ponder her point of view or discard it altogether. But then, he suddenly asked;

— "How do you handle it?"

Frances frowned, realising that she was indeed weary. Her mind kept pulling up walls to refrain from turning to mush by his side; turning into a groupie was out of the question.

— "I have been shielding my thoughts for a long time now. I once met beings that seeped despair into my very soul. I am far from impervious, but my will is now guarded. Those monsters have taught me much."

— "Monsters? Worse than me?"

Frances sighed, her chocolate eyes burning into his soul.

— "You are not a monster, Carlisle. You are a beautiful being that needs to learn to blend in. Perhaps you will find a way to tune down this influence of yours."

— "Once I have mastered my lust for blood."

Of course, priorities first.

— "Good point"

— "Who were those monsters?"

Frances shuddered, her wary gaze roaming the darkened woods. It took only one thought to remember the depths of despair the Nazgûl had plunged her in.

— "Wraiths from another world. All dead now, thank God."

And such were the information exchanged, day after day, as Carlisle and Frances studied the very nature of vampires. They dismantled every single reaction, every bit of information – smell, speed, recovery, feeding habits, strength, vulnerabilities … none – with both their logic and their will to understand. There was no taboo, no subject left aside as they both thrived to use instinct and intellect to help Carlisle accept and master this new life. A new dawn.

Eventually, the weather took a turn for the worse, and the vampire huddled worriedly in the depth of his cave, listening to Frances' wavering voice. She sang again, of mountains and home, her voice melancholic as puddles of snow gathered around her camping site.

_'We will go home_

_We will go home_

_We will go home across the mountains.'_

There was so much she didn't say about her time travels. So much hurt in her gaze when she thought he wasn't looking. Who was this song dedicated to? When would she go, this stubborn woman who refused to leave him to spend the night in an inn? It wasn't for lack of money, they now had enough for her to spend at least a dozen evenings out of the woods. But there was no convincing her to leave him alone. 'You've had enough of wallowing on your own,' she said. Still, she was human … how long could she take such weather without falling sick? Her presence, like a warm breath of unconditional love, burnt bright in his cold chest. It taught him he didn't deserve to be alone, that his soul still lingered.

The vampire cursed his nature once more; even if he managed to gather her against his side without draining her, he would bring her no warmth; his skin was dead cold. As he listened, his ears now able to pick up the slightest of sighs from the young woman, a warm breeze suddenly blew against his icy limbs. The sensation was … otherworldly. As if a ghost had embraced him and patted him on the shoulder, giving comfort, yet bringing a sense of urgency.

Then, everything seemed to clear out. Carlisle braced himself for what he was about to do, and started a fire in his sorry little damp cave. The heat of the flames nearly burnt his skin, and the vampire recoiled slightly. Fire was no friend of his now. Then, he backed away from the entrance. Had he been human, he would have taken a deep breath before calling out.

— "Lady Frances!"

No response.

— "Frances?"

Damn that woman! She wasn't answering his plea. Her voice had died down, all singing forgotten, and he barely could hear her breaths. Darting off, Carlisle dug a trench in the growing layer of snow only to find her own fire dying. She was lying beside it, face pale and lips blue, huddled in a heavy woollen cape that failed at protecting her from the harsh wind. Carlisle recoiled, her scent growing stronger as he tried to wake her up with a nudge of his feet.

— "My lady Frances, wake up!"

The young woman muttered something unintelligible, in French, consciousness fleeting. The vampire stood, frozen, hovering above the body of his friend. The predator relished in her sight; he could drain her in a heartbeat. Her heartbeat, getting fainter and fainter as coldness crept in her very core. Very much like him. But his empathy howled like wolf; he couldn't let her die, she that had given him his life back!

Mustering the bright light flaming in his chest, Carlisle reached for her hand and, enclosing her frozen fingers into his own, dragged her over to his cave to lay her beside the roaring fire. By then, the scent of her blood was enough to make the beast snarl. It permeated the very air, oozing into his refuge like a tantalising fragrance. Her blood was singing to him, the faint beat of her heart causing it to rush through her veins. Her carotid pulsing under the frozen skin, calling him, daring him to take a bite. His fingers still held hers, her wrist exposed to his touch. How the beast wanted her blood, how it longed for it. Just a tiny bite … only a droplet…


	9. Chapter 9 - The wanderers

**_Hey, I'm sorry it has been so long. I guess you might have to read the last chapter again to put two and two together. That what I had to do to write something consistent. I hope you loved this chapter, it was fun to write. There are a few references to Frances' previous travels (Middle earth and King Arthur), but you don't need to read them to understand this._**

Frances didn't know if she was dreaming still, or even alive. She felt … good. At peace, rolled up in another's soothing embrace. A warm presence that seeped into her bones and murmured sweet nothings into her ear. Like a vibration of pure love. The young woman sighed, so engrossed in the feeling of solace that she never wanted to leave. Ah, the blissful oblivion, to never wake up again. But her conscience was now trying to surface, nagging her about the important mission she must complete before a measure of peace would be granted.

The warmth vibration that had engulfed her in her sleep, like a lover's embrace, was disappearing. It left her strangely bereft, and Frances' heart ached. Alone, once more, in the cold world. Except that it wasn't as cold as expected. The crackling of fire echoed on rock walls; she was in a cave. Carlisle's cave! Damn! She had been careless!

Frances started, sitting up so suddenly that furs and covers were flung aside. Sparks flew angrily from the fire, and she barely had time to pull her cape away from the flames before it caught. Cursing aloud, the young woman knelt, her eyes strained into the darkness. Then she spotted him, over the brazen, stuck on the wall farther form where the lay.

Carlisle watched her from afar, his back so engrained in the rocks that his skin should have been imprinted by its asperities. His eyes, so clear even in the darkness, were wide open. Panic. How long had he been there? Frances frowned, trying to assess her state of fitness – poor, she felt weak – and his state of hunger.

— "What happened?" she whispered.

And even with her voice down, her words echoed upon the rock walls of his lair. Carlisle seemed so upset, stuck like a spider in its web, that she shifted. Frances repressed her instinct to approach; in such enclosed environment, her smell must be overwhelming to him. At last, Carlisle seemed to swallow – a human reflex? – before he spoke. And the dulcet tones of his voice conveyed the strain rather clearly.

— "You passed out from the cold, your lips were blue. I dragged you here."

Frances' face split with an incredulous smile, and her expression, so genuine, send warmth into the vampire's chest. Started, Carlisle realised that albeit it was impossible –vampires didn't get warm nor cold – the feeling still washed through him like a benevolent wave.

— "Unbelievable. You … you touched me? Wow"

Carlisle nodded.

— "You are incredible, Carlisle. Incredibly strong"

And the vampire realised then, how truly amazing this step was in his recovery. Yes. Perhaps there was hope after all.

Frances didn't leave the cave. She didn't sleep the first night, nor the second. She was way too aware of what might happen, and her body couldn't relax to take her to blissful oblivion. But in the end … exhaustion won. And Carlisle watched this tiny slip of a woman as she slept, barely a few feet away from him, the flickering light dancing with her fiery hair. Is that how God had answered his pleas, sending him his own little angel ?

Days passed, winter settled for a while, tons of snow piling out outside their little cave, and still Frances lingered, refusing to leave him. 'I'm here as long as they deem it necessary.', she had said. It wasn't an easy life, and she eventually accepted to get to the city to replenish supplies and buy new clothes. Spending, sometimes, a night in an inn. But most of the time, they just explored this newfound friendship. Hunting, cooking – she was human, after all - talking of other worlds, of Gods and spirits, ghosts and monsters, elves and travels through space and time.

And when, in the heart of December, the weather cleared a little, Carlisle found Frances gazing into the forest with a smile, the sun lighting her unbound hair with fire. The vampire smiled, seeing her, for once, at peace. Probably thinking about her elven prince, or the knight she had befriended in the fifth century. Who knew? Her life was such an intricate web of events; even weirder than his.

Carlisle passed his arm around her shoulder, and she smiled at him, angling her head into the hug. The vampire grinned; he was so proud to be able to touch her without going mad. After a month huddled in that cave, her scent permeated every single rock, every little piece of moss. There was no ignoring it; it had built his tolerance fairly well. Now, Carlisle had to admit that her reluctance to leave had brought upon him the greatest ordeal of all; to surrender and bring her inside. By putting her life on the line, she had managed to push his limits further back.

— "See, Carlisle. There's much beauty in this world still."

The vampire squeezed the little woman to his side, nodding thoughtfully. Yes. The world was at his feet, he could feel it now. It hummed, calling his new senses. Never had he seen the forest so lively, so welcoming. A new life awaited him. But first, he needed to know why she stuck with him like this.

— "Why are you here, Frances?" he asked, his gaze still taking in the waking forest and its volutes of white mist dancing in the sunlight.

— "You made me what I am, it's my turn to return the favour."

Carlisle's eyebrows shot up, puzzled by her answer but Frances was quick to cut his train of thoughts.

— "Someday, you will know what I mean. I can't tell you, future and all. But you know, I've seen how you care and protect. You and I are not so different after all."

The vampire internally scoffed at this.

— "Except that you live"

— "And that I'll die…"

Had he been human, Carlisle would have felt the weight settled in his chest. Yes. He was immortal now. It gave him all the time on the world, while Frances relied on magic to defy temporality. Timeless, like him… Maybe she was right, after all. They shared more than he had bargained for.

Frances shivered by his side, and he reomoved his arm from her shoulders.

The young woman addressed him a grateful smile. He was cold, this new friend of hers. Icy on the outside, and so warm on the inside. A great person, whose eluding peace, someday, would hit him square in the chest.

— "I think it is time for you to leave this place."

The vampire regarded her, his bright golden gaze more stable than she'd ever seen it. A gleam passed into his gaze, a fondness, as if he was witnessing a miracle. Herself.

— "Will you sing with me on the road?" he asked playfully.

Frances grinned.

— "Anytime, friend"

And so, they left behind Carlisle's birth town, his father and his past, his human life. Posing as man and wife, with a diseased husband – which explained his eye condition – got them to pass villages rather safely as they headed south. And it kept women away from him, for Carlisle still had trouble controlling his attractiveness. When the tension created by their presence heightened, they slept in the woods. But when they played their cards well, or villagers weren't so coy, they sometimes managed to sleep in an inn. Frances rolled into the covers and he lay beside her, motionless, watching the ceiling as she slept. A moment of peace when she could regenerate and Carlisle would delve into his mind and review the ordeals of the day.

At first overwhelmed by the presence of humans, Carlisle eventually managed to handle them when they kept their distance. He was now dressed properly, and Frances always joked how his clothes needed no tending nor washing. How convenient to be a vampire! No sweat to stain clothes and no smell to wash away.

This very evening, though, things went south without warning. Frances had left to use the privy. Upon her return, whistles and slaps came her way. Used to the rowdy patrons that found her armoured body attractive, she only dodged them, chasing hands away with an aikido move in her hurry to get back to Carlisle. What she found made her blood run cold.

The vampire sat, eyes wide open, his mouth closed in panic. From the look of pure terror upon his chiselled features, Frances knew he was trying not to breathe. For in his lap sat a tavern wench, the likes that Lancelot used to enjoy so much after a good fight. But Carlisle was no womaniser, and the risk so very different. If he lost control … the woman was as good as dead. Stupid, stupid wench! Ice coursed through her veins as she sprang into action.

Furious, Frances stomped to the table, catching Carlisle's gaze. His panic seemed to abate a notch, but he still looked like a child trying very hard not to throw up. 'Quick!', pleaded his large golden orbs. 'Please!' Frances caught the woman's collar and hoisted her up with a furious move. The wench squeaked, offended, but before she could even retaliate the Keeper of Time threw her away from the table, putting as much distance as she could between her and Carlisle. The serving woman, boobs on display, started a sentence that she never got to finish.

— 'Get off my husband, you stupid bitch!' Frances howled; her fists clenched.

Marking her territory, especially if people thought her crazy, would keep Carlisle safe. 'Husband' usually did the trick. Unfortunately, the vampire had reached his limit. He darted off at inhuman speed, passing the door with a blur. 'Crap.' Frances sighed. She was now facing angry customers and suspicious villagers, and Carlisle was at large, on his own. Could this day get any better?

As yells were thrown her way, the young woman gathered their meagre belongings and took off after the vampire. Dusk greeted her with its reds and shadows, and she only had a second before the blond blur she was looking for disappeared into the forest. Good, at least, he was still conscious enough not to use his full speed. The young woman started after him at a brisk pace, reaching the forest's edge in no time. Then, it was all a matter of bringing forth those tracking skills she had not used for years. Looking for upturned leaves and broken spider webs. In the dead of winter, at dusk! Fantastic. Frances exhaled slowly. She was only human, with a very good eyesight for her race – they said fighter pilot, in the army check - but a human nonetheless. Thank God for her months under Aragorn's care.

Frances followed's Carlisle's tracks in the forest, shivering as the light dimmed. Fortunately, it wasn't raining; the light was still good enough for her to go on. The sound of voices caused her to stop dead. Straining her senses, Frances frowned.

There were two, at least. No, three people. And no Carlisle in the voices she could hear. But the taunting, and the way they threatened told her the group faced a stranger. Frances took another step, then another, hiding behind a bark. There, she had a clear view over a clearing where a group of men – bandits, from their ragged look – had surrounded Carlisle. Under the trees, she would make out more human forms. Too many, damn ! The vampire stood still, like a marble statue, probably trying to regain his senses before he massacred them all and drank their blood. Fuck. Fuckity fuck. They were so screwed, and she had no way to let him know she was here. Why didn't Carlisle run away? He had the strength and speed to escape without none of them being the wiser. He was probably overwhelmed. In overdrive; it wasn't the first, nor the last time his vampire senses threw him off for a loop.

Frances breathed in and pursed her lips. She had no choice but to get him out of here before … before hell broke loose, and he killed someone. Murder – she knew – would be a point of no return. His empathy would kill him this time; he was still too fragile to handle it.

Carlisle was strung like a bow about to be released. Remaining still took every single ounce of his quickly ebbing restraint, and the only thing saving those people was the cold that dulled their smell. That woman, that wench! She'd offered her neck to his fangs, ready to be bitten, to be drained, the sweet fragrance of her blood penetrating his every pore. Damn! He'd nearly … nearly, very nearly done it. Had Frances not hurled her out of his lap…

He was disappointed, of course. Hearing that, in the future, he would be able to be a doctor and see blood without trying to bite people … there was hope. Yet, it was also frustrating to be so sensitive. It seemed so far away. Three hundred years away. And suddenly, reality crashed onto him. Frances, the first friend of this new life, would be gone for hundreds of years before all of this happened. Would he be strong enough to rise to the challenge? Her eyes told him yes, but Carlisle doubted himself.

And right now, he was surrounded by fifteen men, at least, signing up their death warrant. He couldn't kill them … he couldn't fail. She had told him that in the future, he had never killed a human being. His mind was screaming, 'Resist!' while his body pulled the other way. The angel and the devil, both battling for dominance, asking for blood or mercy. How stupid he had been, stumbling about in the forest in his flight, failing at smelling the danger!

So when Frances strode into the clearing, her fiery hair illuminated by the large fire, Carlisle nearly sagged with relief. Until dread settled anew. Fifteen highwaymen, against one woman? Still, she approached him without flinching, her leather armour displayed for all to see.

— "Hello there" she literally purred. "I see you have met my husband. Now if you will excuse us, we must be on our way."

Lewd comments and dirty chuckles echoed around the clearing, their intend too clear to mistake; they intended to have a little fun with her. Frances lifted an eyebrow disdainfully, her voice taking on a sharper edge. A warning.

— "If you value your lives, you will let us go."

Carlisle attuned his senses to her smell to dull the other's horrendous one, finding the familiar setting reassuring. He didn't want to fight; he might kill people if he did. But the confrontation seemed rather inevitable. Already, in the background, two men had fished out flintlocks and they seemed to know how to use them. With his superior sight, he could make out their position easily.

— 'Hey, bonny wench, ya think ya pretty boy'll protect ya'

Carlisle's eye found the man who butchered English as easily as any countryman. Teeth were missing, his skin red and chaffed raw by the coldness of winter. Life had probably not been easy on him … hence the choice to join a band of highwaymen. Another voice joined him, and Frances weighted them both up with a glance.

— 'Gonna've plenty a fun with ya, pretty lady.'

Carlisle inwardly winced; he knew what men did to single women who ventured out on their own. He had no doubt that in the course of her travels, Frances had met many a bandit. However, she remained unfazed.

— 'You won't be the first to try,' she responded drily.

Carlisle tried to calm himself and quieten the animal in him. The beast, that craved for their blood for daring saying such things. Frances unsheathed her sword slowly, reverently, showing them the full extend of the blade and its incredible design. A few men stepped back then, feeling the shift in the mood. Under the trees, the two professional bandits aimed. Had she seen them? Perhaps. But there was nothing she could do about it. And a bullet would prove fatal. Carlisle imperceptibly prowled, blocking the first shooter's line of sight. His weapon was redirected to him. Good.

Beside him, Frances addressed him a warning look. One that said, 'stay out of it'. And when she spoke, the temperature seemed to drop another notch.

— "Heed my warning. Let us go, else you die."

Some men laughed at her gall, others launching derisive comments about the wife protected her sissy husband. Frances clenched her teeth, her eyes losing focus for a moment. They had no idea, those fools, that she was protecting THEM from HIM. But he knew. The predator in him felt the surge of power that came from the Keeper of Time before her blade ignited in blinding white.

— "This is my last warning, highwaymen. Let us go, or perish."

Yells and cries echoed in the forest and a few men, more fearful than others, backed away from the clearing. The red hair and magical blade had its little effect. Carlisle heard their feet as they fled more than he saw them. Beside him, Frances' blade illuminated her sharp features, her concentration unwavering. A trickle of sweat ran down her temple, her heart's pace increasing dramatically. Ready for the fight. Her scent became stronger, the waves of her body's awareness too distracting to ignore.

— 'You need to get out of there," she murmured.

Carlisle nodded. Yes. He shouldn't stay there, else he murdered them all and drank their blood into oblivion. Still, he didn't move an inch.

— "I'm not leaving you."

Frances turned to him then, the light of her blade flickering as she shouted.

— "Damn it Carlisle, go!"

The hesitation was enough to spur the men in action.

— "GET THE WITCH!"

Yells echoed in the clearing, and Frances sprang into action, leaping backwards instantly. Two shots rang then; the first one missing her because of her quick thinking, the second bouncing over his own skin. Petrified, Carlisle watched as the remaining men attacked all at once. Axes, swords and clubs at the ready.

Enthralled, he could only watch as Frances danced with her blade, the bright sword cutting through weapons, leather, metal and human flesh alike. In a single swoop, three of her attackers fell to the ground. Hands, feet were severed, bowels tainted the ground. There was no parry, no counterattack as she thrusts her magical weapon around her, leaving no opening. Screams rose, as the smell of fresh blood invaded his nostrils. Carlisle stilled again, his muscles coiled, the beast begging to be released. And he resisted, powerless, his eyes set on the massacre that took place around the Keeper of Time. And he understood the full fury, the immense power that she wielded as she cut down her enemies mercilessly. A bright beacon of light in the descending darkness, a vengeful angel upon the wicked. Already, five bodies lay, motionless, on the ground.

Out of the corner of his eyes, Carlisle saw the gun being pointed again. Taking off in a blur, he ran to the bandit and threw his shoulder into his chest. The gun misfired, the man flew into a tree ten yards from there, stunned. His forearm had been broken by the strength of his blow and Carlisle contemplated, aghast, the red trail that covered his shirt. His white, stainless shirt now tainted with crimson blood. His nostrils flared, his neck cracking as he tried to fill his senses with the smells of the forest. To no avail. The blood was calling… pulsating in the man's body, seeping from his wound.

Carlisle shook from head to toe, struggling, no, battling against his inner beast to refrain from drinking the man dry. He was there, unconscious, ripe for the taking. A highwayman who condoned killings young women, or raping them. The world wouldn't miss him. No. Carlisle snarled, his fangs showing. But right before he could jump upon his victim, Frances' blade appeared in his line of sight, startling him. Its brightness and humming energy distracted him from his victim just long enough for her to yell.

— "Come on!"

And she grabbed his hand, fleeing from the scene at great speed. Surprised, Carlisle let the wind distract him from his need, and ran alongside her until she was panting so heavily that he feared for her life. But still, she didn't slow down, taking them away from the highwaymen and the village. They ran for a long time – for a human – until they came upon a stream, and Frances literally jumped into the freezing water with a string of curses. Carlisle followed, hoping that the cold water would dull his senses. The young woman tore his shirt from his chest, throwing it downstream and doing the same with her clothes. Then she shook her head in the ice-cold water, her moves frantic. By now, her lips were entirely blue, and she was nearly naked.

Then she climbed on the bank and wrapped herself in the woollen cloak.

— 'Can you … build a … fire?' she asked, her teeth chattering.

Carlisle nodded, shirtless. His senses were returning, his mind starting to process what had just happened. Then he understood. The stream had washed the blood away from her, and from his shirt. Now, the only scent that remained were those of the forest. Her hands were shaking so much that he ordered her to stay put; she heartily obliged. Carlisle built the biggest fire ever, fishing some clothes from her pack and warming them across it so that she could dress in dry, comfy clothes. The vampire helped her into her tunic, his eyes not even watching her bare skin, mindful not to touch her with his icy fingers.

— "Thank you" she said, colour returning to her face gradually.

Carlisle sat on the other side of the fire, taking a moment to listen to the noises of the night. The danger, it seemed, had passed. Bandits had scattered to the high winds, and there was no blood left to trigger his inner instinct. The vampire turned his golden eyes to the young woman.

— "It is I who thank you. I would have killed them, and drank them dry."

Frances shuddered under her cloak, shrinking her neck in an attempt to get warmer.

— "Yeah. They deserved it, still… I hate it when I have to kill humans. I just… they were too many, I couldn't control my slices to keep them alive"

Her haunted look unsettled him, but he had no words of wisdom to impart so he changed the subject instead.

— "You're quite handy with that blade."

— "Lots and lots of training, my dear," she responded with a quirked eyebrow. "And pretty awesome teachers. But it doesn't deflect bullets, thanks for that."

— "That was the least I could do."

Her eyebrows shot up, a dark chuckle escaping her lips. She probably wasn't used to people taking bullets and dubbing it 'the least they could do'. Overall, he was rather impressed she had dodged the first one, and heard the second. Her awareness on the battlefield was that of a seasoned warrior. And the way she danced with that blade… Well, needless to say, that she mastered the technique of her elven sword without a fault. Somehow, he wondered if she was entirely human… But the shadows that danced across her tired face, now, told him otherwise. Just flesh and bones. And a beating heart that had resumed its steady pace now.

— "So, congrats, I think" she ventured. "You didn't kill that woman. You need to master this attractiveness, though. I left you five minuets and she launched herself in your lap"

Carlisle tensed at the memory of the wench huddled against him. How could that stupid woman miss how cold his body was?

— "She didn't make it easy. Damn, I was so close… I hate it when I lose control."

— "You didn't" was Frances' stern reply.

The vampire scoffed; she was always eager to find the silver lining in a cloud. Her optimism, though, failed at reaching him.

— "But I almost caved in."

Fire danced in her chocolate eyes as she regarded him thoughtfully.

— "You fled. That's an intelligent way of avoiding confrontation. I wonder if you use pheromones."

— "Pheromones?"

Her kips quirked slightly, her expression still sad.

— "Sorry, anachronical notion. It's a chemical compound produced by one's body to trigger a reaction in its peers."

Carlisle's eyebrows shot up. Sometimes, Frances forgot that he had yet to become a doctor. His education, if rather extensive compared to highwaymen, didn't include medicine and biology. Her absent gaze told him she was nonetheless pursuing her idea.

— "Wait, shouldn't I be able to smell it? You smell nothing to me"

Her furrowed eyebrows nearly made him laugh. Her brain ran so fast, sometimes, testing theories, grasping implications that were so far away from his mind, then getting back to the point in a heartbeat. Experience or studies? Still, this 'smell' idea just didn't work, for Frances tended to forget the main point of it all.

— "I'm dead, remember?"

Her face fell.

— "Right… My bad"

And she left it at that, turning in for the night as Carlisle kept watch. Nightmare plagued her sleep, the result of killing or more ancient wounds, he didn't ask. The vampire only scooted closer, sometime setting a calming hand over her shoulder to keep her from whimpering. The strange sensation of warmth suddenly flooded him; it felt like a 'thank you'. Puzzled, Carlisle couldn't help but relish in the solace it brought him. His body vibrated, as is alive anew, and his gaze settled on the scrunched eyebrows of the Keeper of Time.

There was so much in her mind to unburden, and he wondered how he could possibly help her. If they were meant to meet again, he would need to find a solution in his three hundred years of life; a fair retribution.

_**As my friend LeeLee would say, please follow, favourite and review ! Cheers.**_


	10. Chapter 10 - Goodbye

**_Hey, so that's a short one. The title is self explanatory as well. I hope you enjoy this last interaction with Carlisle and Frances._**

The waves rolled gently over the pebbles, echoing against the cliff side to create a never-ending music that called to Frances' heart. How she longed to walk into the sea and let the waves cradle her! Still … the heart of winter wasn't the best setting for a sea-bath. And if she'd pulled it off in April 476, she didn't feel so confident that she would handle it so well in December 1663.

By her side Carlisle watched the wide expense of swaying grey with an odd expression. For weeks now, they had followed the coast, keeping to the hours where people usually huddled inside their cottages. The point was to avoid anyone seeing Carlisle in broad sunlight at all costs, so whenever the weather was too fair, they camped on deserted beaches and hid in caves if people came about. Not that it happened very often. Today, clouds rolled about, making this sad day even duller.

During their free time, Carlisle and Frances conversed in French, for very soon, the vampire would be traversing her home country. Granted, her way of speech was too modern, and probably a world away from the langue d'oil from north of France. But hey, it was better than nothing. And Carlisle already knew Latin; he would master Occitan easily enough provided he reached the south with issues.

Despite the dull weather, Frances loved it, this little trip by the seaside. Nothing made her feel giddier than the Ocean, and roaming southern Britain with a friend, by the shore, was a welcome reprieve of her stupid job in south of France. Now that she and Carlisle had set foundation for friendship, both of them enjoyed their time together, aiming for the busy port of Dover. And despite the fact that the vampire still had doubts and fears about the future, despite his lack of control and the many times he nearly slipped, they both found solace in the other's presence. Many an evening was spent over a campfire, with both of them singing, or sharing whichever knowledge they possessed. Carlisle was a curious mind, and relentless in his questionings. Many a time, Frances had to refrain from telling him too much about the future. Yet, she compensated by telling him about the history of the earth millions of years ago, the universe, geology and physics, biology and medicine. Her cup of tea.

Carlisle taught her much about theology, and the difference between religions. She was glad for the lessons; until today, Frances has never cared much for those teachings, and found herself lacking whenever she travelled. More than the theory of how the church of England became a different church from Rome, he immersed her in the way of thinking of religious people in England. The way his father had brought him up sometimes showed, and Frances discovered a very different perspective from hers. Yet, despite their very disparate upbringing, they were both reasonable beings and managed to find common ground whenever disagreement brewed. It was altogether fascinating.

Today, though… Today was different. Today, she felt that the end of their little adventure was near, and she was loath to part with Carlisle. She could always feel it, whenever the magic of the blue rock started building up upon her chest. For days, she had dismissed the feeling, reluctant to leave Carlisle behind, but she couldn't ignore the call anymore. Sighing, the young woman was about to warn her friend of her impending departure – hours, or days away – when he surprised her first.

— 'I can't cross the Kanaal on a boat, Frances.'

The Keeper of Time breathed in, smelling the iodine in the air with delight. They'd been heading for the shortest route from England to France, but Carlisle was still too unstable to huddle in a boat for a safe passage across the Channel. Or the Kanaal, as the Dutch used to dub it.

— 'Definitely not.'

Then she sighed.

— 'Check, we are at a stalemate.'

And Frances worried, for it meant that Carlisle would need to settle somewhere and continue to hone his skills until the day he would safely share a boat with people for hours in a row. And she would feel it clear as day. Tomorrow, at the same time, she would be back in Montpellier in the 21st century. The young woman reached for the vampire's frozen hand and repressed the shiver that never failed to creep up her spine at his touch. For despite his status – a dear friend now – Carlisle still was a dangerous predator to her kind; her body never failed to react to the danger. The vampire squeezed her fingers gently, mindful not to break her knuckles.

— 'I don't need to breathe. I can probably cross to France on my own.'

Frances' eyes grew wide.

— 'You mean swimming?'

— 'Or walking at the bottom of the sea. You said yourself that ten thousand years ago, people would cross on foot from England to France. It cannot be too deep. Pressure won't affect me, neither will the cold,'

Frowning, Frances' mind ran a hundred miles a minute. The bathymetric map of the channel showed depth of 30 metres at worst between Calais and Dover. Never before had she been so glad to be a nerd … and a geologist. Hell, there even was a map of the Ocean's depth in her bedroom, how weird what that? Provided her friend walked in straight line and kept to this specific area, the currents shouldn't be too bad, especially at the bottom.

— 'You would have to cross the ancient channel bed, though. The currents will be worst in its crease.'

Frances' eye widened in fear then.

— 'Carlisle. This is a frightening idea.'

— 'You said that a woman swam all the way from France to here, didn't you? I can surely swim over it.'

Damn. He had eaten all the information she gave him, and stored it for later! What a brainiac! Still, a science-fiction movie couldn't have offered a weirder image. Frances bit her tongue then, imagining the little body of Carlisle swimming over the ancient bed of a river in the immensity of this cold, grey ocean. Ugh!

— 'You'd be twenty metres underwater then. Are you sure …?'

— 'I am strong. This is about embracing my abilities, I think. Push my limits again'

Stunned, Frances tried to find a reason why it shouldn't work. A part of her was too worried to let him sink down at the bottom of the Ocean. Yet … it only was the Channel, not the Altantic. Seven thousand years ago, people used to walk and live around the river, when the level of the Ocean was a hundred metres below. It seemed crazy … but the theory was solid. A smile bloomed on her lips as the vampire gave her a smug look.

— 'Checkmate. You are a genius, Carlisle.'

— 'Well, your ramblings about the history of the earth and glaciation didn't fall on deaf ears, you know.'

The young woman rolled her eyes to hide her uneasiness.

— 'And here I thought you were just being polite.'

— 'No. Your view of the worlds, the things you learnt, the knowledge you shared gave me perspective. I want to learn all about it, see the discoveries unfold, I want to see the pieces being put together and humanity understand.'

His enthusiasm brought a wave of hope into her heart. Carlisle was embracing his new life with such a great perspective. She addressed him a warm smile.

— 'It's fortunate you are immortal then. You will have great fun, Carlisle.'

The vampire sent her a penetrating look, his golden eyes turning serious.

— 'Unfortunately, it means we probably must part here. Unless we can reconvene on the continent.'

The young woman squeezed the rock cold hand another time.

— 'I won't be there on the other side, Carlisle.'

— 'You are going back?" he asked casually.

But Frances knew he was far from settled by the revelation. Hell, she felt like it was too soon. But the vampire didn't need coddling; she must stop hoovering over him like a mother hen and let him spread his wings.

— 'Yes. I will probably be called before the end of the day. I can feel it. It is time for us to part … for a while.'

— 'Three hundred and fifty years, give or take,' he whispered.

Frances breathed deeply, trying to get rid of the ache in her chest. A dull sensation built her behind her eyes, and she bit her lip.

— 'Yeah… It is a bit ironic when I know live in France. I wonder what Montpellier looks like today. There's a great academy of medicine there, you know.'

— 'If we are to meet again, I'll tell you.'

— 'I'll hold you to that.'

Carlisle only nodded, his gaze wistful. Words, now, were useless. They descended to the beach, stepping on an impossible path that would be, for both of them, the last one in England before they set off on separate courses. Carlisle opened the way, as always, making sure that it was without danger for his companion. A vampire could survive a slip and the mighty fall on the cliff side, but Frances would not. So sweet, so caring… Tears escaped her eyes at the idea of saying goodbye. How could such a man consider himself damned?

And when at last, they set foot on the round pebbles that littered the immense beach – the tide was out – Frances realised that it was the first time she wasn't giddy to reach for the sea. No. Today, the sea would swallow another part of herself away. As usual, only the memories of their time together would remain. But for once, the best present awaited her upon her return. Instead of losing Carlisle forever, she would be able to see him again. An aged, wise version of himself.

Smiling through her tears, Frances washed them away, and approached the shore where Carlisle awaited. Tall, and sturdy, his bearing that of a man ready to embrace his destiny. She was so proud of him! Gentle waves rolled about, their white lining reflecting the light. Yet, the sun still had to show its face. Frances stopped beside the vampire, her gaze lost at sea.

— 'You are a vegetarian vampire, Carlisle. You don't have to be a danger to the world, you can protect it now.'

An amazing sound echoed then, its lilt so beautiful that her jaw slackened. Carlisle was laughing, his head thrown back, his blond hair swinging in the breeze. It was such an enthralling sound, so incredible in itself that she felt light headed. Her heart soared with pride; her mission was accomplished. Carlisle could laugh again. Without thinking, Frances threw her hands around him, squeezing him tight in a mighty hug. The vampire froze then; his cold rock body not moving an inch under the plushness of her human arms. It was like hugging a marble statue, or lying down on a frozen floor. Yet, his warm presence partially made it up.

Frances' eye flew open then as she realised the insanity of her move, kicking herself for giving in. As she started to pull off, Carlisle stopped her with his arm strongly set behind her shoulders. His face inched closer, angling aside, and his lips deposited a timid kiss upon her temple. Frances' heart thundered in her chest, the tingle from this single gesture of affection counteracted by her instincts to flee, and the coldness of his confusing touch around her neck. She could feel the strain of his muscles, the control ebbing away as he clenched his hands.

— 'Thank you,' he rasped. 'For everything'

Frances could only nod, tears running down her cheeks. At last, Carlisle released her and she gasped, trying to regain her breath and her bearings. His presence was so overwhelming! The vampire took a step back, very aware of the effect he had on her instincts. He even chuckled at her dazed expression.

— 'Vegetarian. I'll remember that'

Frances froze, recalling his words, eight years ago. _'It was a clever woman who introduced the concept to me.' _Damn! The clever woman he had mentioned that day … it was her! Hence, they had come full circle. The prefect temporal scenario.

Her musings were interrupted when Carlisle stepped into the water, the gentle waves lapping at his boot-clad feet. Frances frowned, then detached the purse at her waist to launch it to the vampire. She wouldn't need money anyway, but the leather of his boots would certainly suffer from the salt.

— 'To buy new shoes'

The blond vampire nodded, lifting his eyes to the sky in expectation. What was he waiting for? Then she understood at the sun tore through the clouds, its rays landing on Carlisle. His skin alighted with sparkles, one last vision of the angel before he disappeared into the waves. Frances' brain shut down and she could only stare, puzzled by the incredible beauty of this creature.

— 'It never gets old,' she murmured.

Carlisle sent her a warm smile then, his white teeth engulfed in the light that danced upon his skin. Her throat constricted then, understanding eventually dawning. He was really going. Her voice wavered as she bid him adieu.

— 'Until then, Carlisle Cullen.'

— 'Until then, my lady Frances.'

— 'Goodbye, my friend. Be safe, be great.'

Carlisle addressed her one last, heavy look, and walked into the cold sea. And for once, Frances didn't follow.

**_Hey, the next chapter will be officially the last one. There there should be an epilogue. Thank you for reading this, and leave a review if you liked it ! Cheers._**


	11. Chapter 11 - There and back again

**_Hey ! So we're finally done with this installment of Frances' stories. Thank you to all who reviewed, followed and favourited. Cheers !_**

Montpellier – 2010.

After a warming bath – Frances still shivered at the mere thought of Carlisle sinking into the Channel – , the young woman slipped into her best comfy pants and soft cardigan before sinking on her bed. Ringing the sushi shop for much needed sustenance – how good it felt to get back to the comforts of the 21st century after months of hardships – she fished a calling card from her nightstand. This specific one had moved four times with her furniture as she roamed the world. It was always there, at the top of the pile, awaiting … waiting for the day when she could understand it all.

_'__Someday, you'll know. And once you do, give me a call.'_

_Carlisle._

Her lips quirked up slightly, amused rather than irked. Now she knew what the sibylline sentence meant; it didn't spook her anymore. Food would not be ready before an hour, at least. It gave her plenty of time.

The young woman fidgeted slightly with the handset before daring punching the numbers. Her first attempt went awry; she had forgotten to add the +1 that would take her call to the states. As if, deep down, she feared talking to him. What was fresh in her mind was three hundred years old in his.

Shaking herself mentally, Frances started the process anew. +1. Then the whole set of numbers. When the tonality echoed on the line, her heart rate picked up; she tried to settle it immediately. Three months living beside a vampire had taught her not to taunt him with a heavy thud of her heart, nor the scent of her panic. It would take a little time to adjust, but the habit could still prove useful.

Calming herself was now a second nature.

It didn't prevent her from opening eyes bigger than flying saucers when the recipient picked up, and a familiar voice greeted her ears.

— 'Doctor Cullen. How may I help you?'

Always polite and so smooth. It was difficult to differentiate him from the man she'd left on his own, crossing the Channel on foot, barely two hours ago. Yet … he was now three hundred and fifty years older, on the other side of the Altantic, and a father of five children. Sometimes, time travelling was confusing as hell. But it wasn't the thought of the time gap that sent her mind in a fit of panic.

— 'Hey Carlisle'

Her voice wavered as silence fell on the line. Three hundred and forty-seven years … until their 'chance' meeting eight years ago. Would he still want her as a friend? The warmth of his greeting, when he had given the necklace to her, seemed to indicate that he had not forgotten. Still … so many years. Wow. Gathering her courage, she eventually uttered.

— 'Frances here. I know it has been a while…'

His answer came swiftly albeit at human speed for her sake.

— 'I cannot express how glad I am to hear you, Frances.'

Her name still tumbled from his lips like a melody, his British accent acutely repressed but slightly distorted by the joy held in his voice. The memory of his smiling features sent a pang through her heart; it had been too scarce upon the first months of his transformation. But now she could almost hear his emotion, not unlike her own.

— 'As am I. I remember you, now'

Carlisle chuckled on the line, a sound that nearly made her heart stop. He seemed … happy. And she knew he was, for she had witnessed it firsthand when they abducted her to his house. Still … after the struggle they had been through the latest months together, his laughter was music to her ears. It held another dimension, to know he had managed, after all, to gather this family and made a life for his own. A great life!

— 'I can hardly fault you for not remembering me since we had yet to meet.'

A fond smile found its way to her lips.

— 'Yeah. There is that… Am I interrupting anything, by the way? I can call at another time.'

— 'No, your timing is perfect.'

Frances's eyebrows rose on her forehead. It was 9 am on the other side of the Atlantic.

— 'Are you not at the hospital?'

— 'Not today… Alice said I needed the morning off.'

This time, the young woman couldn't refrain from chuckling.

— 'Of course. Sweet Alice. She gave me clues, you know, about our next encounter. I would never have guessed had I not witnessed it firsthand'

— 'So you know, now.'

His voice was serious … relieved.

— 'Yes. And wow. I wonder how you managed to keep your calm after all we've been through. How did you piece two and two together when we met in Forks?'

— 'The colour of your hair gave me a clue. But mostly your face, and posture. The confidence with which you hold yourself now, the awareness of the fighter was absent. And your gaze … your gaze was younger'

Carlisle didn't elaborate, choosing instead to let her draw conclusions but she knew. When he gave her the necklace in 2002, her eyes were devoid of heartaches. Now … now she could only wonder what he would read in them.

— 'There is something I need to tell you now that we can speak freely. This woman you got the necklace from, I think she wasn't human.'

On the other side of the Atlantic, the doctor frowned. It was so weird, to hear her after all this time. To find their easy banter and complicity again, the one that had nurtured him and nursed him back to sanity in the most difficult moments of his life. It felt like a paradox, to hear her on the phone, using a modern device when his memories of her were mostly of renaissance inns and seventeen century caves. The flash of her blade, the strength of her smile, the wariness of her posture and the trust in her eyes. All of it buried for three hundred years as he made a life for himself, striving to stick to her mantra, to elevate himself and fit the title she had given him. Friend. 'You are no monster,' a voice he had heard countless times in his head when difficult times brought him to despair. At the time, Frances had been an impressive woman three years his elder with a depth of experience he could hardly fathom as a time traveller. Today … today he upgraded her by more than three hundred years. And even if she didn't seem so young on the phone, nor exuberant – he knew her wisdom still lay beneath the easy-going manner – the two visions had trouble reconciling.

Plunging into his memories of the day the magical necklace was dumped upon him, Carlisle frowned. What could Frances possibly mean by 'not human?', he had felt the life drain out of the woman's body as she died, sprawled upon of her wounded lover. But he couldn't possibly pronounce the 'vampire' name on the line. Too dangerous.

— 'I am positive she was … her heart was beating…', he started.

— 'No, I mean, not this kind of non-human. Do you remember the stories I told you about Arda? The elves. A people of great beauty with an inner glow.'

His blond eyebrows shot up. How had he not thought of it! Of course! It all made sense now!

— 'Oh! The light! It seemed to radiate from her skin.'

— 'Yes. That would be it'

Stunned by the realisation that she came from another planet – another planet! —Carlisle's mind started running full speed. This meant that the woman … er, elf was not a singularity.

— 'So you've met her people.'

— 'They are immortal, Carlisle. Like someone I know…'

She was being careful with her words. Good, with this modern technology, you never knew who could be listening. Obviously, Frances was trying to convey information without saying suspicious words that could call the attention of the NSA.

— 'An entire civilisation created by higher beings that also appointed the Keeper of Time in the first place.'

— 'Do you think she was the first one?'

Silence. He could nearly hear Frances shuffle the blankets around before she answered.

— 'I have no idea, and we'll never know. I wish I had met her.'

— 'You're a little young for that, but I regretted as well that we couldn't talk some more before she appointed me the next chooser. Will you tell me more about them?'

A little snort echoed in the handset, and the vampire could only lament, once more, about the poor quality of landline communications. So many frequencies didn't pass through, distorting voices so much that they were barely recognisable. He wondered how outdated Frances was, using a landline rather than a Skype conference. His children would surely give her an earful about getting a smartphone.

— 'It would take forever, Carlisle.'

The vampire smirked.

— 'Not a problem to me'

— 'Aha. Well, I need to eat someday. And sleep in an actual bed, with a mattress and a puff wow! This is great. "

Carlisle smiled on the other side, amused by her antics.

— 'How long have you been back from your travel?'

— 'Give or take, two hours.'

This revelation touched him more than he would ever admit. Frances had not even started living anew before she reached for him. To her, they had parted ways less than three hours before. Her ramblings, though, didn't give him the leisure to linger on those thoughts.

— 'Honestly, though, I'd be glad to tell you more. But since it is a rather long story, I can probably give you my writing for a starter. Just keep it to yourself and Alice, I wouldn't want any kind of organisation to stumble upon … you know'

Carlisle reclined in the leather seat of his library, his golden eyes roaming across the heavy bindings of volumes so rare they were probably worth millions now. Original edition of Pride and Prejudice, or Romeo and Juliet. There was nothing he enjoyed more than reading; Frances knew it for she shared the same passion about books. It was unsettling sometimes how much they resembled each other, yet there never was any ambiguity about their relationship. Nor him, nor she had ever wondered about being more than friends. It just wasn't meant to be. And now that Esme had walked into his life … he could only hope Frances would find the man that would make her vibrate body and soul.

— 'You wrote of your travels?'

— 'Yeah. Some sort of therapy. It helped. I know what the next story will be about…'

Immediately, the doctor in him rose to the surface; he wasn't speaking to a friend anymore, but a patient.

— 'How traumatising have those experiences been?' came his worried voice.

There was a slight hesitation on the line before she opened up to him.

— 'Do you remember the day we stumbled into those bandits?'

How could he ever forget? He had never witnessed such a battle at the time. Young and fresh, at twenty-three years of age, Carlisle had seen death at the hands of his father more often than not. Witches and innocent burnt or tortured, disorganised scuffles and peasants defending their own. But never methodical slaughter. That day, Frances had dealt death like a vengeful angel, trying to protect him from the harsh truth. Trying to preserve the little innocence he had left, to prevent him from killing another human being. The sight of her blade slicing through bandits, dripping with crimson blood, was embedded in his memory. Yet, she had barely flinched.

— 'Yes, I do'

— 'This was easy compared to what I faced. This unofficial job, it's been difficult.'

Her voice was even now, almost detached. Clear signs of dissociation. Carlisle frowned. He had been the one give her the necklace, didn't she resent him for it? Had he known beforehand, would he have done the same? Three hundred years roaming the world had done wonders for his sanity of mind, giving him time to process changes and be an actor in the course of history. A doctor, to care and protect, and make the world better. But Frances … how did she cope with it all? Her 21st-century spirit had probably been rattled to the bone during her travels to the past. Has she seen war? Torture? Misery?

— 'I am saddened to hear it.'

— 'I do not regret any of it, Carlisle. I have met amazing people. I've lost a few as well…'

Her voice lingered at that, and the doctor stored the information for later. Perhaps in this admission lay the answers to the sadness she always stowed away. Perhaps, someday, she would allow him to assist her in getting rid of the Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. Yes, it had a name, now. And when first Carlisle stumbled upon it in the seventies, he had made a point to specialise in the domain. Over the years after Vietnam, many other techniques had arisen. EMDR, hypnosis, cognitive behavioural therapy as well as phytotherapy… Carlisle knew them all. For he had not forgotten his promise, to give a tribute to Frances and help her overcome the nightmares that plagued her mind. Not only because she had been his first vampire friend, but also because he had been the one to make her 'the Keeper of Time'.

The proposal would have to wait, though. They needed to rebuild this bond beforehand; she needed to learn who he was, now, rather than whom she remembered. Absolute trust. And first, he had to ensure his family's safety.

— 'You know' her voice trailed. 'You being there, alive and a happy father of five teenagers … that is worth the world to me.'

Yes, she was right. Her job had been to show him the way; she had succeeded with brio.

— 'I can never thank you enough for what you did for me.'

— 'This is what friends are for…', she smiled, her voice wavering.

— 'You know that should you need help, you only have to call'

And there was nothing more serious than his promise. Time, protection or money, Carlisle would give it all to help her if she so needed. For she was the very reason he was here in the first place. He could nearly see the fond smile blooming on her face as she answered.

— 'I know. But anyway … how is life treating you? How's ageing?'

There was humour in her voice.

— 'You would be pleased to see my control has much improved.'

Blood lust, attractiveness, temper and strength. Given the strain of their first encounter in the woods on the outskirts of London, Carlisle doubted she would recognise him at all. There was nothing more he would like than to give her a long hug and a kiss, just to see the surprise on her face.

— 'You mean you won't call me daft anymore?'

A laugh escaped him, true and genuine. The memory of ancient times where he thought her too crazy for her own good.

— 'I have improved my level of politeness now, I don't use this adjective anymore. Americans have many other choice words in case of emergency.'

— 'Like you'd call Esme that.'

They both laughed, sharing mirth over his beautiful wife. The woman who had turned his eternal night to day.

— 'No, I wouldn't, just as I have learnt that you are a very stubborn woman, but not daft at all.'

— 'You always were a bright one,' she quipped.

— 'As for the passing of time, a lot happened while you were away. Edward got married, and we had some scuffles with a clan.'

— 'Scuffles?'

Carlisle bit his tongue, wondering how much he should tell over the phone about the Volturi. Instead, he settled for a warning.

— 'They can never know you know, Frances.'

— 'All right. Dangerous much? I've got friends now that could maybe help with that.'

Her tone was business like, but the underlying threat still conveyed her message clearly. And even if Carlisle didn't doubt she might have the means to help, involving officials – FBI or whomever she had ears from – could only result in a bloody war. The Volturi had capitulated, for now.

— 'You know how dangerous our people can be Frances. Keep a low profile, and never speak of us. You're too close to them for my own comfort.'

— 'Is your line secure?" she retorted.

— 'As secure as can be.'

— 'How close?'

Carlisle sighed; she was always one to ask direct questions.

— 'Rome'

— 'Threatened your family?'

The vampire bit his lip; perhaps he ought to have occulted their recent dealings with the Volturi, but Frances needed to know. She had no knowledge of their coven and must, at all cost, be kept out of their radar lest they assaulted her to get the necklace and eradicate her. Her tone, though, told him she was already planning the war. Pulling up wards should they discover her existence, considering escape routes and contingency plans.

— 'My granddaughter.'

— 'Granddaughter?'

Surprise laced her voice. And just like that, the Keeper of Time reverted to a bouncy, carefree woman.

— 'You have a granddaughter? Wow'

— 'Yes. She is lovely.'

— 'I bet she is… All right, so I want pictures, and the long story.'

Carlisle chuckled on the phone, feeling a little devious.

— 'What happened to eating?'

— 'I'm a woman, I can do both. As for you…'

— 'I've got all the time in the world, thanks to you,' he answered.

And it was true. Carlisle Cullen, now, owned a life with no end, and a he owed it partly to the Keeper of Time.

**_So, that's is for now. In the span of Frances' stories, they will met again at the very end. The only issue is that I cannot write and post it now because I have to make it consistent with "The lone knight" which I have not finished yet. When it is done, I'll post the last chapter here. In the meantime, I encourage you to roam my other stories that will explain Frances' numerous travels through space and time. Cheers ! d'elfe._**


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